


Nomad by Fate

by deathsteel



Series: Introvered Romance in Our Troubled Minds [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brothels, Death Threats, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Good Intentions, John Winchester's Bad Parenting, Lies told for bad reasons, M/M, Nobody communicates like they should, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Physical Abuse, Prostitution, Sad, Self-Sacrifice, Seriously guys so much angst, Terrible Outcomes, The Author Regrets Everything, Trigger warnings out the wazoo, Well that escalated quickly, seriously guys please don't ignore the tags, so much sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 61,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsteel/pseuds/deathsteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Born to Run.<br/>(reading first part is highly encouraged [mandatory to prevent confusion])</p><p>High school was hard, but being an adult is harder as Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak soon find out when their relationship faces obstacles that neither one of them expected. Heartache, sacrifice, and betrayal are things that both men must learn to face before they're able to admit that maybe in trying to rescue each other they've lost more than they ever hoped to save.</p><p>{ON HIATUS}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The View

**Author's Note:**

> **Please check out the tags and be aware that this fic deals with some heavy, dark themes.**

There were a lot of names for what she did: call-girl, exotic dancer (though she didn't do much dancing, just enough to attract potential customers), lady of the night, working girl, hooker. Some of them were much more offensive than that, but she preferred escort, simply because it didn't leave that lingering taste of strange men in her mouth that she always struggled to brush away before falling into her own bed in the early hours of the morning. And she wasn't too terribly ashamed to call herself that, it was something that if she still spoke to her mother, she might be able to tell her about without collapsing into a heap of neuroses on a therapists' couch somewhere.

I mean, the profession had been around longer than any other and flesh would probably be the only currency to survive the inevitable economic collapse that Abbie kept ominously predicting. Her firey red-headed coworker said that she was in it for that reason alone, to hone her skills so that when the end finally did come (whether it was from zombie apocalypse, severely misguided leadership, or from nuclear fallout Abbie never bothered to explain) she could ply her wares for top dollar and be the most well respected whore out of all of them.

Her coworker called them all whores, men and women alike because she said there was no point in sugarcoating it. Eve told her to shut the hell up and get back to work, sending her off with another client because Abbie's special talents made her a particular favorite amongst those who frequented Eden. The clients only had one name, no matter what their gender was or what they asked to be called in the private rooms that each of the workers had in the sprawling complex that sat on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas; they were always Johns.

But she had found her out, it was the only way really that Eve would ever let her break her contract early without being so fucked up as to sue her about it. She had seen other girls get out the same way, only she was pretty sure that they hadn't been doing it on purpose like she was doing. The trick was to make it until Eve tested them all again; once every three months a special doctor came in to make sure that everyone was clean and everyone was taking their meds so that nothing could blow back on their intrepid employer. She just had to get her timing right, make it look like an accident or she had no doubt that Eve would have her killed just to prove a point to all the other girls who hated working for the dead-eyed brunette.

She had started taking more shifts so that she had more options, someone who wasn't a complete creep. Someone who didn't make her feel like she wanted to peel her skin off after she had sex with them, there had only been a couple that fit that description so far.

One had been sweet, gentle, asked what a girl like her was doing in a place like this and then had just wanted to know her name the first time he came to see her; unable to hide the disappointment that had flittered across his blue eyes when she had told him that her name was whatever he wanted it to be. It had been the first time in a long time that she wished she could still be that wide-eyed, innocent girl from Battle Creek, Michigan who had just been looking for some way to save herself for once when she had left her hometown for the furthest away she could get with the money she had. He had visited her three times since then and called her Andrea every single time.

The other had been older, had asked her to call him Jim and had just smiled benevolently at her when she said her name was Lexi, it was the name she always gave when the whole 'its whatever you want it to be' speil didn't seem like it was working. He hadn't been back to see her, but she thought that that was more of a guilt thing than anything else because she had seen his clerical collar and rosary shoved into the pocket of his coat plus she was young enough to be his daughter so she didn't take it personal when she didn't see him again.

And she was making an inordinately large amount of house calls, something that had been Eve's idea when business had started to slow down over the holidays and people were less inclined to spend time in a brothel as opposed to with their families; those had been some interesting clients. The paraplegic who had just wanted to make her come, had gotten off on just touching her and holding her and making her feel unashamed about how she made a living like she usually did. The girl that had gotten her as a Christmas present for her boyfriend, to be the third to their threesome that ended up with her watching more than participating because they got off on voyeurism more than anything else.

She didn't expect this house call to be any different, Valentine's Day was in a couple of days and people always got lonely during the holidays; she knew that she did. So when the call had come (the man had just been asking for a girl, any girl), she had jumped at the chance to go. Because they were slow and she needed the money and her last at home test that afternoon had come up negative so she needed to try harder. Her and her coworkers' meeting with the doctor was just about a month away and if this didn't work then her only way out of Eden was killing herself; she already had bought the things she needed for that, the straight razor, but she really really did not want to have to use it.

Her only thought when she climbed out of her Volvo in front of the large apartment complex near the University of Kansas campus was about how fucking cold it was and how whoever this was better take into account how short her skirt was when he was determining her tip. That's a lie, she had two thoughts. The first was about how cold it was and the second was about how she needed to be more careful or Eve was going to start asking why she was caring around condoms when she was supposed to be on birth control like everyone at work who needed it. It was a precaution of course, in case whatever John she was seeing was entirely not worth risking her uterus for.

There was a checklist about it all; that had been one of the first things that she had set for herself when she decided to do this, standards. Looks didn't play into it, neither did age or any kind wealth that she could have observed. Eve's girls and boys didn't come cheap, but she didn't have any intention of asking for help from whoever ended up being the one, so the fact that they had phonied up the dough to be with her only had relevance on her pocketbook and nothing more. The whole thing had to do with health, mental stability, and the overall probability that whatever guy it ended up being wasn't a fucking asshole.

She took great care to make the assholes wear condoms, citing policies that didn't exist as a reason for being overly cautious.

She glanced down at the scrawled apartment number that Eve had written down on the super ironic guest check tickets that she had picked up to write down the information for house calls. They looked like the ones that the all-night diner that she sometimes went to after her shift ended used and she made a point to pay before the sweet, older woman who waited on her brought her ticket so that she wouldn't throw up everything she had just eaten. It was close to around here, probably within walking distance. Maybe if this was quick she could go get a milkshake or something before heading back to Eden.

"Two thirty-seven," she muttered, hustling into the building that was mostly quiet since it was so late, almost two in the morning.

The elevator was quick and fuck at least it was warm, but it gave her enough time to try to rub some feeling back into her legs and arms as she rode up to the second floor and the short walk to the apartment was just long enough that she could fluff up her hair and put herself into the mindset of Lexi that she had let slip on the car ride over. When Bob Dylan had been playing on the local night radio station and she had been singing along like the twenty one year old she should be, instead of the jaded, bitter escort that she had to be every night. Was it any wonder that she was desperate to get out?

She knocked on the door and something that sounded like a bit of an argument on the other side was all that she heard before it was opened by a grizzled, bleary eyed looking man in his late forties. He looked vaguely familiar, maybe he was a regular for someone else? Ambyr maybe? Her coworker tended to draw those giving daddy-types since she was all fragile and innocent looking, like someone who guys just wanted to take care of and provide for. Why didn't she get guys like that? Except for the guy who called her Andrea, most of them were wham, bam, thank you ma'am before they were out the door and back to their happy little housewives.

"You'll do," he said gruffly, waving her into the darkened apartment.

 _Gee, thanks,_ she thought keeping her forced, coy smile on her face as she stepped inside with a seductive sway of her hips and fingertips trailed across the older man's chest. _Might as well get this over with. I totally deserve a milkshake._

"So, how are we doing this?" She asked, making her way towards the couch that she could make out in the dimly lit living room.

The only lights were coming from the kitchen, illuminating enough of the apartment that when she spun around with a flip of her long brown hair to perch alluringly on the armrest of the sofa the light glinting off the handgun on the table was the first thing to catch her eye. It also made her heart skip more than a few beats and made her curse Eve for ever thinking it was a good idea to meet a John in their own home where there were no metal detectors lining the front doors to keep the psychopaths out and no security to keep her safe like there were at Eden.

_Great, if I was going to die anyway I should've just stayed in Battle Creek._

"Don't worry, lady," The man said, running a hand tiredly over his face as he moved past her to pick up a broken lamp that she hadn't seem laying on the floor next to the couch until he carefully set it onto the coffee table in front of the sofa with a resigned sigh. "That's not for you, it's just...incentive to make my son do what he's told."

His knuckles were torn, bloody. When he bent down he had let out a soft, pained sounding wheeze that made her reach out abortedly to help him before she remembered, _Oh yea, there's a fucking gun right there._ She crossed her arms over her chest instead, mostly to keep the older man from seeing how badly her hands were shaking, but maybe she wasn't the one who really needed her help right now.

"Your son?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain calm even though all she could think about was how stupid she was for letting her prepaid phone run out of minutes, but it had been that or not eating this month and survival had seemed to hinge more on her not starving than being shot. Or at least it had at the time.

"Yea, you're here for him." The other man said gruffly, pointing dismissively down the hallway and causing her to turn her head to follow the gesture. "Second bedroom, just ignore the bathroom door. I'll have it fixed by the time you get done, if you need it afterwards."

"What am I supposed to do to him?" she asked, what a dumb question? Wasn't there only one thing she was good for, isn't that her uncle had said?

"Fix him." The man said tersely, waving an impatient hand at her. "Go on now. Second bedroom, the one with the light on."

She nodded quickly and walked slowly towards the hallway, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the gun on the table to make sure that the older man wasn't planning on shooting her once her back had turned. There were all kinds of weird kinks that Eve had assured her that she wouldn't have to engage in while working for her, those had been the only things that she had been worried about before she had signed the contract. Things like necrophilia or vampirism, things that involved her getting hurt or scarred or killed, but there was a different kind of scarring that came with this kind of work.

And the guy was a regular, she had remembered when she saw his hands. Carlos had said that his favorite regular had just the best hands, broad and strong even though they were weathered because the guy had told her coworker that he did construction. She had seen those hands one Wednesday when she was on her way out the door after Eve had let her go early, holding the door open for her as she left and he came in like he usually did once every couple of months

He wasn't going to shoot her or at least she was pretty sure that he wasn't. The gun wasn't for her, it was for someone else; she just needed to make sure that she was far far away when the John decided that he needed to use it. But that didn't stop her from clutching at her chest when she saw that the bathroom door had been torn off its hinges as she passed it or from missing the hole that had been punched into the wall of the hallway she was going down or the dried bloody fingerprints that were smeared on the door knob of the second bedroom, the one with the light on.

* * *

Things had just gone so wrong and Castiel was still reeling from how sudden and violent it had been to act on all of his instincts that were screaming at him to go for help.

The problem was if he went for help, he didn't know what John would do. Not with how he had been waving that fucking gun around like he had any idea what he was doing with it; Castiel knew that Dean's father had been clueless about his own handgun because he had been handling it way too flippantly for a firearm that already had a round chambered and the safety off. His own experience with guns in the ROTC had taught him that you didn't point a loaded weapon at anything unless you meant to use it and yea, John had been mad, livid even, but he was pretty sure that the older man had no intention of shooting his own son.

No matter what he had or hadn't seen or heard during the time that he had been in the apartment and they hadn't been aware of it. God, how long had he been in the apartment with them?

Dean had said that his father would be gone for a month and even with his boyfriend's impromptu road trip to Chicago to support him at the trial that had effectively locked away his eldest brother, Raphael, and his father for a long time, John had only been gone about a week. A week did not equal a month, not even on the most fucked-up misprinted calendars in the universe.

They had gotten home late the night before, driving into the early hours of the morning with Castiel dozing with his head in Dean's lap until they reached the street that his boyfriend's apartment complex was on and the other boy roused him enough for them to stumble out of the Impala and up to their bedroom. Chicago and everything there that had hurt him was behind him now and he fell asleep in Dean's arms thinking only of the future and how bright it had looked for the two of them; together against anything.

It had been early afternoon when he woke up and he probably would've slept longer if it hadn't been for Dean trailing light kisses across his chest as the other boy mused aloud to himself about whether or not it was too late to make breakfast. Cas remembered murmuring something along the lines of it never was too late for breakfast before rolling over onto his stomach and burying his face back into his pillows with a muffled groan.

Dean had just chuckled and said that he knew he had made the right choice by picking a smart guy, earning another groan from Castiel that turned into a pleased hum when the larger boy started kissing at his neck and back instead, causing him to stretch all the way down to his toes as he arched into his boyfriend's touch. The other boy had just kept kissing though, tracing down his scars like he did every time he thought that Castiel needed the reassurance and mouthing along the curve of his ribs until Cas tried to wriggle away from how the light touches were almost ticklish only to be caught by Dean's arms caging him and pining him down to the mattress. He loved it when Dean did that.

"You have no idea, Cas," Dean had muttered into his ear, running his callused hands along Castiel's biceps and down to his fingertips before going back to kissing down his spine. "No idea what you do to me. How amazing and strong and gorgeous you are. You don't know at all, its just...perfect. You're perfect."

"They warned me you were a sweet talker, Winchester." Castiel had teased, smiling into the mattress because no one had warned him. The other boy's charm was just another one of the many things that he loved about Dean Winchester, that he would never stop loving about Dean Winchester.

"Mmmm," his boyfriend had hummed against the small of his back, pulling the fabric of Castiel's boxers over the swell of his backside before nibbling at the newly revealed flesh. Cas could feel the cupid's bow smile against his skin even as he gasped from the not really painful sting of Dean's teeth. "What else did they warn you about me?"

"Well this girl in my Calc class said you're a shit lay." That was a big fucking lie, it felt like an eon ago not hours that Dean had proved to him just how much of a lie that was.

Long enough that his lip didn't hurt any more from the one pot shot that John had gotten at him when he had opened the bathroom door to find Dean's father standing there looking thoroughly horrified and disgusted to see his eldest son in the bathroom with Castiel. Long enough that Gabe had texted him about the outcome of the custody hearing, it had gone just as they had thought it would; Anna was safe from their father, Uncle Zach had been caught up with the whole restraining order business with their father, and Aunt Gail hadn't even had to testify in front of her husband so he would never know her part in keeping their niece out of Illinois at all.

Long enough for it to get dark and for his grip on his cell phone to become painful as Cas waited for Dean to call him, he just needed Dean to call him. Tell him that he was okay, that John hadn't killed him, that _they_ were okay. He sat in the Impala for as long as he could before it got so cold that he couldn't feel his feet anymore. Oh yea, the world was still turning. It hadn't ended just because John had caught him and Dean together, so why wasn't Dean calling him?

His own house felt empty, big and scary in comparison to the haven that he and Dean had created for themselves in the apartment; in the royal blue bedroom that Dean had called 'ours' when he had asked for Cas to go and get him a clean shirt after their shower together. The shower that had—NO. He didn't want to associate the breathless, beautiful gift that Dean had given to him in the shower with the pain and fear that had come afterwards at the hands of the other boy's father.

So he sat on the couch in the living room of his house, ignoring the texts and calls that weren't from Dean because they weren't from Dean and trying very hard to keep it together by not dwelling on how the other boy had just looked so frightened as he had jumped across Cas when John's punch had knocked him back into the bathroom door, making it crack off its frame and sending him to the floor. He tried not to think about how John's fist had sounded connecting with Dean's nose that already had a bump in it from being broken once before and he really really tried to not hyperventilate when he remembered how Dean's eyes had pleaded with him to stay, even when he had been yelling at him to go when his and John's fight had moved into the living room of the apartment.

He should call someone, the police probably and tell them what was going on. But the one text he had gotten from Dean less than an hour after he had left the apartment, shoeless and clutching the keys to the Impala like the lifeline they were had just said "No cops." If there was one thing that he owed the other boy, one thing that Dean deserved for sacrificing himself to save Castiel then it was the smaller boy doing what was asked of him. So he wouldn't call the cops and he couldn't call anyone else because they would no matter what texts he might show them from Dean.

So he waited, watching the clock above the mantel of the fireplace and staring at the picture that Gabe had framed of him and Dean headed out to the winter ball in their hilariously unusual tuxes. He wasn't above praying, though he had told his boyfriend on more than one occasion that he wasn't sure if anyone was listening, so he did. Cas prayed that Dean would be okay. He prayed that John would see reason and get help, counseling or something for the hatred that he had for how both of his sons were choosing to live their lives. He prayed for the strength to make it through all of this without doing something that would get both he and Dean killed. He prayed.

* * *

"It's not as bad as it looks," Dean said emptily to the slender brunette woman standing in his bedroom door, looking at him with her brown eyes as round as saucers and her hand covering her mouth to stifle the gasp that had come out as soon as he had turned to fully face her. "Might as well come in. Sit down or something."

His mind felt fuzzy and numb, detached from what John had told him this girl was here to see him for. It could be partially due to the painkillers his father had given him to try to dull the throbbing mess of tender skin and blossoming bruises that the left side of his face was, but the fact that John had given him a beer to wash it all down with probably hadn't helped. Cas had gotten out though, while John was distracted from Dean punching him in the ribs and that was all that mattered.

He watched her nod quickly and take a quick step into the room, shutting the door behind herself and hesitating for just a second before walking to where he was sitting on the edge of his bed to reach out a shaky hand towards his face. She stopped before she touched him though, her eyes wide and concerned and so very scared that he felt bad for her. Maybe he should explain, none of this was her fault after all. It was him and his stupidity that had kept him from making sure his dad wasn't home yet as soon as he and Cas had gotten into the apartment.

It was the relief that he hadn't had to sit on the hard wooden benches of the Illinois courtroom anymore, watching the love of his life relive every painful, agonizing second that had led up to Castiel thinking that suicide could be his only possible out that had made him blind to the fact that there had been lights on in the apartment when he and Cas had gotten there, even though Dean was pretty certain he had turned them all off before heading over to housesit for the Novaks while they were in Chicago.

The elation that Dean had had feeling how alive his boyfriend was as he thrust into him and held him close and shaking while they both came down from their post-orgasmic high before Cas had made the muffled suggestion that they take a shower that had finally made Dean brave enough to ask the other boy how much it hurt and Cas had offered to explain it in the only way he could. He shook his head, leaning away from the woman's outstretched hand because how could be explain how things had gotten so fucked up without going all the way back to the beginning?

"Did he, your dad, did he do this?" She asked quietly, shaking her head disbelievingly and turning her back on him when he nodded.

He could hear how high-pitched and hysterical her voice was and okay, he needed to focus so that he could try to calm her down before she had a panic attack; because of Cas he knew what the beginnings of one looked like now. Her breathing had gotten faster when she saw him and she had started clutching at her chest in that way that Cas did when he was trying to make his lungs work like they should, the last thing he needed was her fainting or screaming or something and just drawing this out more than it needed to be.

"Hey, lady," he began thickly, wincing when he ran a hand through his hair and his battered knuckles brushed through his sweat spiked hair. "Don't freak out or anything, its fine. I'm gonna be fine, just try to calm down."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't then you're going to pass out probably," Dean answered, clearing his throat in an effort to fight against the way his vision was graying out around the edges; he hoped he didn't have a concussion or anything.

His dad had hit him over the head with a lamp after all, to make him stop fighting once Cas had gotten away. Dean thought that maybe a small part of his dad had wanted Cas to get away, but then again Dean had never fought for anything harder in his life than he had fought for his boyfriend's safety so maybe there were no small, sane parts of John Winchester left. He just hoped Cas stayed away long enough for the cops to do their actual jobs and come arrest his dad who must have had a mental break or something over the whole Sam thing, finding out that Dean was with a guy too had probably just been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

John had taken his phone, but he knew that the other boy wasn't stupid. He just needed to stay alive for Cas, do whatever he had to do so that he could hold the other boy in his arms again and hopefully his boyfriend would forgive him for whatever he ended up having to do so they could see each other one more time.

"No," the woman snapped, her brown hair fluttering around her shoulders as she spun back to face him. Her expression was more worried than frightened and Dean cursed his dad for dragging her into his fucked-up homophobic vendetta. "I mean, why did he do this do you? What could you have possibly done to deserve this?"

Dean scoffed at her forthrightness, admiring it for what it was: concern. His mind raced with ways that he could explain this to someone without having to go all the way back to him being a kid and how his dad had reacted to him kissing Andy Gallagher at the pool that fateful summer that his mom had left. Literary references raced through his mind, much like they had once when he had thought that he would be alive long enough to write the story of his and Cas's love for everyone who had doubted them. _Romeo and Juliet_ was the only thing that immediately came to mind.

"Have you ever loved someone who your parents just really didn't like?" He asked, trying to sound easy going and joking, but his voice broke on 'loved' and he rushed to get the rest out before he started crying. Months of not being able to say 'I love you' to Cas and now he could say how he truly felt about the other boy? To a fucking stranger?

"God, that's what this is about?" She breathed, gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. Keeping enough space so that Dean knew she obviously didn't want to do this just as much as he didn't. "You dad didn't like your fucking girlfriend so he beat the shit out of you? Oh jesus, is she okay? Did he hurt her too? Is she going to the cops?"

"I sure as hell hope so," Dean muttered, wiping angrily at his eyes that were now blurred by tears and cursing under his breath when he pushed the salty, stinging liquid into the cut that he had running across his left cheekbone. "Cas is smart though, he'll know not to try to help me by himself."

"Oh," the woman said softly, nodding in understanding beside him as she rubbed her hands against her bare thighs. "Is he alright, then? Your um, boyfriend? Did your dad catch you two together?"

"I think he's okay," he replied, brushing his fingertips gingerly over the swollen skin around his eye. John hadn't let him look in the mirror, just tossed a damp washcloth in Dean's direction and told him to get cleaned up, that someone was on their way to fix him. "He only got hit once and I guess it could be worse, my dad could have walked in on us instead of just hearing what we were doing. Shit! He wasn't supposed to fucking be here!"

"Hey," she soothed, patting him awkwardly on the knee while trying to tug her skirt down at the same time. "Shit happens. You couldn't have known. Just, um...be thankful that he's safe. That your dad didn't catch him and make him stay to watch because otherwise we'd actually have to...y'know?"

"Did I get the only hooker who can't say the word sex?" Dean joked, mentally squinting to see the silver lining that the other woman was trying to point out for him. "Fuck, lady. You're just as emotionally constipated as me. What's your name?"

"It's whatever you want it to be, baby." She said quickly, blanching as soon as the last word left her mouth and turning apologetically towards Dean. "Shit, I'm sorry. That's just...old habits die hard. You can call me Lexi, if that helps anything."

"Is that really your name?"

"Are you really gay?" Lexi countered, arching an eyebrow at him and looking pointedly at the laptop that John had been playing old _Casa Erotica_ DVDs on since Dean had regained consciousness, saying that until he could get a professional over to help him then his son was going to watch it until he was normal again. "Because all of the evidence is saying otherwise."

"No offense, Lex," Dean began, rubbing at the back of his neck as he got up to shut the laptop, spinning on his heel to lean back against the dresser that Meg and Cas had just moved two weeks ago when they had redecorated his bedroom for his birthday. "I mean you're pretty and all. If you had asked me six months ago, you would have been exactly the kind of girl that I would have jumped at the chance to sleep with, but now..."

"I get it, kid." She said laughing self-consciously. "You can't help who you fall in love with, but what do I know? I'm just a jaded hooker being held at gun point to turn a straight teenager straight again. You're lucky, some of us don't get the luxury of choosing who we fall in love with; the love of my life is a different guy every night."

Dean didn't know what to say to that, I'm sorry? It didn't feel like enough, obviously this job wasn't something that Lexi wanted to be doing, but right now he was so deep in shit himself that he couldn't think about rescuing anyone but him or Cas. She was fine, she was older and even though his dad had been waving that fucking handgun around like a moron Dean knew that he wouldn't shoot her if she didn't manage to 'fix him'. His dad had told him that gun was meant for him, which was fine because the only thing that Dean had to live for had already escaped the apartment; all Dean had to worry about anymore was getting back to Cas alive.

"I'd rather not have sex with you then if you don't mind," Dean explained, holding his hands out at his sides, palms facing the woman in an apologetic way that felt weirdly apt for the situation they were in. "I mean if there is another way that we can convince my dad that we did, then I would much rather do that."

"Jeez, if I can't figure out a way to act you out of this then I must be losing my touch," She said, letting a sly, shaky smile quirk at her mouth as she patted the bed beside her. "Come on kid and tell me, are you normally a screamer?"

* * *

John was pretty certain that Dean thought he was stupid. In fact, he was pretty sure that both of his sons didn't think much of his intelligence because those ungrateful brats had taken everything that he had given them, all of the sacrifices he had made trying to raise them after their mother left and chosen to make their lives harder than they had to be.

Sam...he could almost understand Sam; the kid had always been 'sensitive', bookish, kept to himself, and didn't want to play the sports or do the rough and tumble little boy things that Dean had always been so keen on doing. It had almost come as a relief when the little faggot had moved out, with Bobby saying that if John couldn't see that he was doing the same thing to his youngest son that his old friend's father had done to them then he was delusional. John knew though that the only thing he had ever been delusional about was how he had felt about Bobby and about how Bobby had felt about him. It wouldn't have been so easy for the other man to walk away if they had been in love, if Bobby had ever loved him.

Dean though he didn't understand. His eldest son had always been a ladies' man, hell John had seen his son stumbling home more than once, neck stained candy apple red by some little tart's lipstick and reeking of perfume-a smell that stuck out like a sore thumb in the masculine only scents that lingered in the apartment. Sure, there had been that thing with Ellen's nephew when Dean was a kid, but nothing since then. Nothing that had made him worry that his son could have the same confusing urges that he had had at that age for other men, nothing that he didn't think he hadn't taken care of when he had beat the lesson into Dean after that first time.

No, if anything it was those fucking queer Novak boys; poisoning his sons against him. He had had his suspicions about that Cas kid since the first time that he had seen him, but everything with Sam and the older Novak had just been more urgent and obvious and something he had honestly thought he could fix at the time. But his lectures had just driven his youngest son right into the arms of that jailbaiting homo and Dean hadn't been around to hear most of them so how could he have known?

In fact, he never would have if he hadn't gone to that bar in Eudora with his first week's pay from the month-long remodeling job that he was working and seen Dean on the news which had been focusing on some human interest story out of Chicago. It had been about some history-making court case involving assisted suicides and gay rights, what the two had to do with each other John had no fucking clue. But there Dean had been kissing that Novak boy on the courthouse steps in front of god and everyone like it was nothing.

He fell asleep drunk waiting for his son to get home so that he could confront him about the whole thing; have Dean tell him it was all a mistake or a phase and then they could move on. John could still have the grandkids, the ones that he and Bobby had never planned on having when they were teenagers racing against the clock and the odds to be together in the harried, heated moments that they had had before it all came crashing down.

But he had woken up hearing it, something that no parent ever wanted or imagined that they might have to hear from their children. Still he hadn't been able to tear his eyes off the bathroom door, horror struck to find as it was that the gun in his hand wasn't going to be used to protect Dean from anything worse than himself. He was too late, his son was already so far gone and so lost in the twisted, disgusting, familiar things that he was doing with that filthy fucking fairy that the only way John could save him would be to either kill him or try to fix him the same way that John had tried to fix himself before Bobby had turned back up in his life and ruined it all again.

He should have known that Dean would be too smart and too stubborn to actually do what he was told; even when the threat of being shot was held over his head it apparently wasn't enough of a motivator to get his son interested in self-preservation. Because John now knew exactly what his son sounded like during sex, not that he had ever wanted to know, and it was nothing like the sounds that were coming out of the second bedroom at the end of the hall. Fucking stupid, foolhardy, pigheaded asshole. John knew that his son got every single one of those traits from him and him alone.

John didn't knock, because he knew that he wasn't going to walk in on anything that needed to have a warning attached to it so that the parties involved could cover up, preserve their dignity or whatever Eve's girl wanted to call it. So he wasn't surprised in the slightest to find his son and the girl he was paying to fix him fully clothed and just sitting side by side on the unfamiliar bed in the unfamiliar blue room having a grand old laugh at his expense. Well they weren't laughing when they saw the unamused look on John's face or the gun that he was toting tiredly at his side, feeling like it weighed a million pounds more than it actually did.

"You must think very little of me, Dean." John said to his son, pulling back the hammer until it clicked and rechambered the round that he had been ready to put between that Novak kid's eyes earlier this afternoon. "I wish you could just see that I am trying to help you."

"Oh shit, oh fuck, jesus mister fuck fuck," the girl was muttering hysterically, shrinking back into the mattress of the bed behind Dean and crying silent tears that made her caked on mascara run in rivulets down her pretty olive-skinned face. "Christ we're sorry, fuck. Just don't shoot us."

"I think that Eve would consider it a favor," John sneered at her, feeling his stomach turn over when he thought about how he owed that pimping harpy a visit anyway along with Carlos who was used to seeing him every two months or so when the urge to give into the desires that made him hate himself got too strong to fight anymore. "Putting a useless, lying piece of snatch out of commission for her so that she didn't have to get her hands dirty, but no. I'm not going to shoot you, either of you."

"Well if you're bluffing dad then how about you put the gun away?" Dean asked, putting his body between the older man and the girl's so that he could shield her from any more of the mess that she had gotten roped in to. "Jesus Christ, you're scaring the shit out of her and not getting what you want so what's the point?"

"The point is I want you to see it, Dean." John explained, hefting the gun up from where he was holding it at his side so that he could look at it contemplatively as he realized that he meant every single word he was about to say to his eldest son. He just loved his boys so damn much, pity he hadn't gotten the chance to save Sam too since Bobby had gotten all of his stuff and he hadn't seen the younger boy since before Christmas. "I want you to know that I mean business; now I've paid a lot of money for this lady's time so that she could help you. The least you could do is not throw the gesture in my face."

"I didn't ask for yours or anyone else's help, dad." Dean pleaded, holding his hands up to show John they were empty as he stood up and took a tentative step towards the older man. "There's nothing wrong with me, I love Cas."

"Oh well then that makes this even easier," John mused, pointing the gun swiftly at his son who probably just assumed that the older man was drunk or at least hung over, but that had worn off while he had been waiting for Eve's girl to arrive and he was more sober than he had been in years. Dean took a startled step back and were it anyone else, John probably would've thought that the surprised look on his son's face was funny, but it wasn't anyone else and this wasn't funny. "You'll fuck her or I'll find that faggot and kill him."

"Dad," Dean began, glancing over his shoulder at Lexi who was crying in earnest now, face buried in her hands. "You can't be ser—"

"Do it, Dean." John said seriously, finally remembering the full name of his son's lover that he had thought sounded so fucking sissy the first time he had met him. "Do it or Castiel dies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, I know its late, but here is the first chapter to the sequel for Born to Run. Let me warn you and apologize for it now, this is going to get much worse before it gets better. 
> 
> For those of you just now finding this series, I suggest you go back and read the first part, Born to Run. It will answer any background questions you might have and probably give you more that you'll want answered, plus it's 30 chapters (200K+ words) of sometimes fluffy, sometimes smutty, sometimes nail-biting angsty goodness (in my opinion, but I'll let you be the judge of that).
> 
> Please, stick around. Let me rip your heart out of your chest and feel free to scream at me for doing so.


	2. One Too Many Mornings

_The warm spray of the water pounded down on him, flattening his hair to his forehead and the sides of his face where Dean had just been cupping his jaw, kissing him gently and slowly with the wet slide of their tongues together as the larger boy had shuddered and sighed his way through his own throbbing release deep inside Castiel. He ran a hand over his chest and abdomen, half-heartedly washing away the dried streaks of his own come that had been there since Dean had stroked him through his own orgasm; one leg hooked over the larger boy's shoulder at the knee and the other wrapped around his waist pressing hard enough into Dean's lower back that his boyfriend would probably feel the phantom ghost of his heel there for days._

_Castiel smirked to himself when he thought of Dean aching in the almost the same places that he did; his lower back, his legs, his arms muscles that were sore from the most unconventional workout that was still his favorite right up there with jogging and running and rifle drills. He reached behind himself blindly, fumbling for the bottle of Dean's body wash that he knew was on the short ledge that was built into the wall so that he could finish his shower and then he and Dean could go get something to eat. Luckily the diner served breakfast all day so even though it was now almost five Dean was still going to be able to get an omelet the size of his face; a desire that he had voiced into the hollow of Castiel's throat when his boyfriend's stomach had rumbled ominously at them._

_The door to the bathroom was on his left and Cas just smiled wider when he heard it open and close, squinting through the steam and the water streaming down his face to see Dean clad in his favorite pair of blue plaid pajama pants divesting himself of said pants before he climbed into the shower behind Castiel. The shower in Dean's apartment was much narrower than the one that had been in their hotel room the night of the winter ball and it wasn't exactly a tight fit for the both of them to be in there together, but it was close and that was just fine._

" _Shit,Cas." Dean cursed, tucking his arms behind Castiel's back in an effort to avoid the scalding jets of water pouring down on him by using the smaller boy as a shield. "Why do you always have to have the water so hot?"_

" _I like it hot," Cas replied, leaning back against Dean as he reluctantly turned down the heat on the faucet to a temperature that Dean might find more bearable. "But since you're a big ol' baby I'll suffer through a cold shower just for you."_

" _You're such a gentleman, sweetheart." Dean teased; Castiel heard the pop of the bottle of body wash behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see Dean lathering soap over his chest and shoulders._

_His boyfriend arched an eyebrow at him when he noticed Cas watching, smirking mischievously as he leaned in close to place a chaste kiss on the nape of the smaller boy's neck; solid sudsy chest pressed against his back for just a second before Dean looped an arm around his shoulder to hand him the bottle of body wash that he had been reaching for before Dean had walked in in all of his chiseled Greek statuesque glory and distracted him like he always did._

_Dean flinched slightly when the water hit his arm, shielding the scar that was on Cas's chest for a second before he reached for the faucet after the smaller boy took the bottle from him. "Jesus, Cas. How does that not hurt you?"_

" _In case you haven't noticed," Castiel replied matter of factly, lathering the handful of body wash that he had poured into his arms and across the back of his neck while Dean ran his hands gently across his back and ribs. "I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. Can you get my back, darling?"_

_He felt Dean's hands, warm and safe smoothing across his shoulder blades; kneading into the muscles there before spreading the soap that had been on the back of his neck down his back as much as he could. Cas knew that his boyfriend was looking at the scars on his back, at the V that he had cut into his own skin using the flail his father had provided; scars that would probably never go away and hadn't hurt nearly as bad as the ones that had been left on his psyche, the ones that Dean had helped heal._

" _Is that why—" Dean started behind him before cutting himself off with a disgruntled huff that caused Castiel to turn around warily. The larger boy's hands settled on his waist before Dean pulled him in tighter so their chests were pressed together and his boyfriend could press his forehead into Cas's with a sigh. "Nevermind, baby. It's stupid. Of course it's not the same."_

" _What's not the same?" he asked his boyfriend, tilting his head so that he could try to catch Dean's gaze in his own and read the answer in his boyfriend's eyes like he normally did._

_It was a quirk that most of their friends found annoying- how he and Dean communicated without speaking, but it was helpful since Dean had trouble talking about and saying certain things. Castiel wouldn't still be in this if he couldn't read his boyfriend's body language; see in every step and every smirk how much Dean loved him, even though the other boy had never been able to say it out loud._

_Dean let out a self deprecating chuckle, but didn't open his eyes as he wrapped his hands around to Castiel's lower back; rubbing soothing circles into the skin there like he did when he was prepping and stretching Cas before they made love. Always careful, always considerate so that he wouldn't get hur—Oh._

" _No, Dean." Castiel murmured, ducking his head into the larger boy's neck as the blush crept up his cheeks. They didn't usually talk about sex, besides what they did or didn't like and there wasn't much that Castiel didn't like for Dean to do to him or vice versa, in fact he couldn't think of a single thing that Dean could do to him that wouldn't give him a raging erection. Like the one he had now. "I mean, my tolerance of pain doesn't really have anything to do with it."_

" _So it_ _ **does**_ _hurt?" Dean asked, voice thick with remorse that Cas knew was unwarranted because if Dean were doing anything to him that he didn't wholeheartedly want done then he would have said something. "Baby, I'm so sorry. We don't have to—"_

" _It doesn't hurt Dean," Castiel said quickly, his head shooting up fast in alarm when he heard how Dean was about to blame himself again for something that wasn't his fault; like Sam having to move out because John was a bigot or his mom leaving to get away from the older man, but leaving her son's behind because they were damaged or deficient in some way even though everyone could see that they weren't. "I mean, it does hurt. A little, at first. But that's what prep is for and once we are y'know…then it's different. It feels…full. Does that make any sense?"_

" _Not really," His boyfriend said, shaking his head with a confused frown on his face causing droplets of water to spatter across Castiel's collarbones. "I mean, I don't see how that could feel good."_

" _Do I have to explain anatomy to you Dean?" Castiel asked exasperated by the blinders his boyfriend sometimes put on when he was working himself into a good and steady bad mood. "The prostate is a glan—"_

" _Yea, I know, Cas." Dean cut across, rolling his eyes and nudging the smaller boy out of his way so that he could duck his head under the spray of water; putting his hands on the wall under the shower head so that he could lean into it and work out the stiffness that Castiel knew his boyfriend probably had from sitting in the car for almost ten hours the day before._

_There was a slightly darker patch of skin on Dean's right butt cheek, the beginnings of a bruise left by Cas's heel digging into the firm flesh as he had urged his boyfriend to thrust into him harder, deeper, faster until his orgasm had come crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Castiel reached out with a prideful smirk on his face to touch it before a thought struck him. Why was Dean so suddenly curious about whether he was hurting him or not?_

_Sure, he was always careful to the point where Cas was usually begging Dean to fuck him; talking dirty and using his ROTC voice in the way he knew the other boy liked so that he would just get on with it already and still Dean would ask if he was okay or ready or any other phrase that his boyfriend chose to use before finally putting on a condom and burying himself as deep as he could inside of Castiel. Close enough that Castiel finally felt complete and whole and not covered in ugly, blemishing bruises that matched the ones on his mind. Was Dean scared that Castiel would hurt him? Had his boyfriend been thinking about this as much as he had?_

" _I could show you," he offered softly, settling his trembling hand on the swell of Dean's backside with his thumb brushing timidly over the barely there bruise._

_Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, the water pouring down the front of his chest and over the muscles that he had a hard time keeping his hands off of even when the larger boy was not enticingly nude and glistening from the steamy air surrounding them. He could see his boyfriend was scared, though Dean would probably sooner give up pie than admit that he was scared of anything, but Cas knew the other boy well enough to know what the emotion looked like; he could see it in the way his lips parted slightly, green eyes searching his face before his boyfriend's teeth sunk into his lower lip and he nodded._

_It wasn't a huge, enthusiastic holy-fucking-hell-yes type of nod, but it got the point across to Cas. And it got the point across to his cock, which was already hard again despite their fairly recent love making just from the thought that maybe Dean wanted this as badly as he did, maybe he had all along._

" _Are you sure?" Castiel asked again, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse and already fucked out. Dean nodded again, more emphatically this time and Cas rushed to pull back the shower curtain so that they could get out and dry off and make it to the bedroom before he exploded just from excitement and nervousness and apprehension that he may not be able to make this as good for Dean as the other boy constantly managed to make it for him._

" _No," Dean said quickly, catching onto Castiel's elbow to stop him just as he moved to step over the low wall of the tub to reach the towels on the rack for him and Dean. "Don't go."_

_Cas tilted his head at the other boy, stepping in close to wrap his arms around Dean's waist in reassurance. "I have to, there are things we need. Lube. Condoms. I want to do this right."_

" _If you go I might lose my nerve," his boyfriend admitted, one of his hands turning into a fist against the wall and punching at the cheap, mass-produced laminated material in frustration. "Fuck, I'm screwing this up already."_

" _You aren't," Castiel murmured soothingly into the larger boy's temple; earning a noseful of water that made him come up sputtering when he went to breathe in the scent of Dean's cedary body wash that he loved. He took a step back from Dean who had turned to face him when he started coughing and was trying very hard not to laugh at him, he could tell. "Ugh, fucking water. You suck."_

" _On occasion," Dean teased, edging around Castiel again so that the smaller boy could put his back to the water as he tried to catch his breath back. "But seriously, babe. Maybe this is a sign, I mean maybe we shouldn't…why the hell are you looking at me like that?"_

" _It's okay to be nervous, Dean," Cas said plainly, swiping a hand through his hair in an effort to shake off the excess water; it was mostly pouring down his back now, lukewarm and only mildly annoying. "If you don't want to, I understand."_

" _I'm not nervous," Dean snapped, sighing apologetically when he saw how his boyfriend's face fell before reaching out to pull them both together; skin flush against each other from knee to chest so that Castiel could feel his arousal nestled up against the larger boy's. "And obviously I want this. I just…I don't know what to do…on this end of things."_

" _Well if you aren't going to let me leave then there's not much we actually can do," Cas explained trying to keep the impatience out of his voice as he looked pointedly through the shower curtain towards the door to the bathroom._

_He glanced back at his boyfriend who looked completely and utterly mortified; Dean's green eyes were focused on the ceiling, but they kept flickering back to Castiel. Every time they did he saw something else in them: arousal, embarrassment, fear, want, love. Cas let out a sigh of defeat, nodding to himself a bit before reaching out to cup Dean's jaw and turning the larger boy's face towards his own until their eyes met._

" _Turn around Dean," Castiel ordered lowly, not missing at all how Dean's breath hitched in his throat or how the pupils in the other boy's green eyes dilated or how the hard cock pressing into his hip twitched in anticipation before Dean turned around again to face the back wall of the shower. "I'll take care of you."_

_Cas watched appreciatively how Dean hesitated for just a second before pressing his hands against the wall and leaning into them, arching his back so that his ass and hips were angled invitingly towards the smaller boy. He watched the tense muscles jumping under Dean's skin for a second, the beads of condensation rolling over the tanned, freckled skin before he reached out to put his right hand on his boyfriend's shoulder; stepping in close until his erection was brushing teasingly and maddeningly at the crevice between the globes of Dean's ass._

" _First, I'm going to kiss you," Castiel said, causing Dean to look back at him; glancing down at the area where the smaller boy's hips were positioned close to his backside before swallowing and nodding quickly._

_He leaned in, draping himself across Dean's back in order to reach his mouth so they could kiss with mostly tangled tongues considering the awkward angle that they were approaching each other. Cas tried to not move his hips, wanting Dean to relax his clenched muscles before he startled the other boy by touching anywhere near his entrance. His free hand found Dean's hip, squeezing there to reassure his boyfriend before he let it graze over the curve of Dean's ass and down his thigh; around to the front of the larger boy's muscled leg where he reached out to give Dean's still hard cock a couple of long, slow strokes that he hoped would distract him._

" _Does this feel good?" Cas muttered, pressing his forehead into Dean's shoulder when the other boy broke their kiss with a gasp when he felt the hard line of the smaller boy's cock slipping between his unclenched cheeks. Dean nodded quickly, eyes wide and desperately searching Castiel's face for what he wasn't sure, but his boyfriend let out a quiet breathy whimper and bit his lip hard; breaking eye contact when his long-lashed eyelids fluttered closed over his lust blown green irises. "I'm not going to do anything to hurt you, I promise darling. I just want you to see what it feels like to have something there so you can know for sure if this is something you want."_

" _I trust you, Cas." Dean said breathlessly, turning his head so that it hung low between his shoulder blades and all Castiel could see was how hard his boyfriend was breathing due to the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders in front of him. "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me."_

" _Good," he said, removing his hand from Dean's slightly pulsing cock so that he could suck his index finger into his mouth; it tasted slightly salty from the precome that he had been spreading along Dean's shaft, but the steam in the air and the water trailing down his elbow had diluted the taste from how strong he was used to it being. Cas toed at Dean's calf lightly, removing his finger with a soft slurp and reluctantly stepping back so that he could get his hand between his body and the larger boy's. "Now spread your legs wider, shoulder width."_

_Dean quickly complied, shuddering slightly when Castiel brought his hand down from the larger boy's shoulder to spread his cheeks. Castiel shushed him softly, stroking his thumb over Dean's skin in a way he hoped was soothing his boyfriend's nerves He trailed the finger that he had been sucking on down the newly widened crevice, skipping over Dean's furled hole completely to reach all the way between his boyfriend's legs to cup the other boy's balls in his palm; rolling them together and earning a groan from the trembling boy in front of him as he moved back to Dean's perineum and massaged the sensitive, nerve laden skin there firmly._

" _Shit, Cas." Dean moaned, bucking his hips into the air in front of him when he felt the light pressure behind his balls from his boyfriend's teasing, talented fingers. "Yea, I like that. You've done that before."_

" _Nice to know you've been paying attention," Castiel teased, peppering soft kisses over the other boy's shoulders until he felt the muscles relax under his lips. "Dean, I want you to tell me if I need to stop, okay?"_

_The larger boy nodded again, taking a deep breath that came out as a groan when Cas moved his finger to brush around the puckered ring of muscle Dean had probably never imagined being an erogenous zone before they had met each other. For Cas it had been different with Dean, felt different than when he fingered himself while he masturbated with thoughts of Elvis or his old almost not really boyfriend Daniel or most recently and exclusively Dean being the person he pictured touching him with deft hands that made him tremble and cry out when he finally reached completion._

_But even though it was different with Dean touching him in his most sensitive area, it was still familiar because he had done it to himself on countless occasions when the ache of being alone or being apart from the other man got too much to take. For his boyfriend this was entirely new, foreign and reminding himself of that is what slowed Castiel down, that and the desire to not make Dean regret this when he had just decided to open up about it._

_Cas was hard himself though, just from seeing Dean spread out and trembling and wanting in front of him so it was taking everything he had to just keep lightly rimming around Dean's entrance with his spit slickened finger that was nowhere near lubricated enough to do what he actually wanted to do. Which was to take Dean as fast and as rough as he could, to claim him and mark him so that everyone would know and his boyfriend would never forget just who he belonged to; it was instinctual and slightly overwhelming. Scary._

" _How does that feel?" He asked lowly, wishing his cock was pressed between the warm confines of Dean's ass cheeks again, as close as he was going to get without lube and condoms, but it had felt right in so many ways. "Do you like this?"_

" _Cas, I'm hard as a fucking rock if that answers you fucking questions okay?" Dean snapped, letting out a harsh moan when the smaller boy pressed his finger harder against the other boy's entrance; his cock giving a twitch that caused pre-come to spurt out of the head and slide slickly down the length that was arching upwards towards his stomach when he felt the quivering ring of muscle flexing against his cautious digit. "Oh Jesus, yea more of that Cas. Fuck, how do you not come just from this?"_

" _You're just not used to it," Castiel murmured, smirking when he thought of how little it had taken for him to come the first time he and Dean had just dry humped. "It'll get less intense."_

" _I sure as hell hope not," the other boy replied, pushing his hips back into Cas's hand and surprising them both when the tip of the smaller boy's finger slipped inside to the first knuckle earning a hissing moan from Dean and a startled, stuttered apology from Castiel as he froze; consciously tensing the muscles in his arm so that his finger would go in any farther and hurt the other boy._

" _Shit, Dean," Castiel reprimanded as Dean gasped and quivered in front of him; his hole fluttering tightly around the intruding digit causing Cas's cock to throb hard in response. "God, I'm so sorry. Fuck, you can't just do that. What if you got hurt?"_

_Dean dropped his hand down to cover the one that Castiel had holding onto his hip, twining their fingers together with a breathed out apology that turned into a moan when Cas saw the muscles of the larger boy's lower back flex, making his hole clench hotly around his finger before relaxing again._

" _S-sorry, baby." He whispered, tugging on Castiel's hand that was wrapped in his own until it moved around to the front of his abdomen; trailing it down against the hard muscles until he felt the coarse patch of pubic hair that framed Dean's cock brushing against his fingertips. "I'm just…oh fuck, I just keep thinking of what it's going to be like. With you inside me, I don't even care if it hurts. I want to feel you, all of you. God, that sounds so fucking gay."_

" _No, it's normal Dean," Cas chided gently, pulling his finger back out of his boyfriend until he was just rimming around his entrance again; ignoring the disappointed noise that Dean made and really ignoring how his cock had apparently only heard 'don't care if it hurts' because_ _ **he**_ _cared and as much as he wanted to fuck Dean into the wall until he was screaming for more and begging to come, not having at least lube was going to make that something he had to put on the back burner for now. "Shit, you have no idea how much I want to, but we can't."_

" _Why not, Cas?" Dean whined, moving back until his ass met Castiel's cock again; rubbing enticingly against him so that he had to quickly wrap his free hand around the base of his arousal, making a tight circle so that he wouldn't come all over the small of Dean's back and his beautiful fucking ass without having the other boy come with him._

_He groaned softly when Dean continued to grind his damp, flawless skin against as much of Catiel's cock as he could; finally conceding and sliding his erection between the other boy's cheeks just as he grasped firmly onto Dean's dick and gave it a long, tight stroke. Cas squeezed the head of Dean's cock softly, using the pre-come that emerged from the other boy's slit to ease the glide of his hand as he started to roll his hips down against the muscles encasing him, finding the sweet friction that he had been looking for and earning a appreciative groan from his boyfriend._

" _See, Cas? How hard was that?" The larger boy said, his voice thick with arousal as Castiel watched his dick slide down Dean's backside and imagining that he could feel his boyfriend's eager hole quivering against his heated flesh; he added a twist of his wrist as he stroked Dean to retaliate for the phantom feeling that was driving him too fast towards the edge. "Ugh, fuck yes. Oh god, you're so good Cas. So damn good, just think of what it's going to be like. When you fuck me, just like this after I come from you stretching me out. I'll be begging for it Cas and fuck! Jesus Christ, fuck. You have such a big dick, baby. It'll be so tight, I'll be tight just for you."_

" _You sound like a porn star," Castiel muttered, secretly loving it when Dean got loud and vulgar because he was the one doing that to him, not some girl who would never see this side of his boyfriend. The side that was open and honest and vulnerable because he trusted Cas to give him whatever he asked for and to not judge him for it later. His hips sped up along with his hand and he grabbed onto Dean's hip again for leverage as he thrust harder and rougher against him. "Shit, darling. Oh my god, Dean. You're so beautiful like this. I love that about you. Jesus, I love you. Dean, I love you so much."_

" _Oh fuck," Dean cursed softly, letting Castiel manhandle him easily as he stood on his tiptoes so he could feel as much of the smaller boy as he could against his skin because he was so close to coming that he didn't even care how needy and desperate and loud his moans were anymore. "When we do it, Cas. Fuck, right there! Shit, when you..ugh..f-fuck me I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it when you come."_

_The smaller boy almost choked at that. Well, that and the unmistakable, not imagined at all because what fucking reference did he have to imagine how that would feel feeling of the head of his cock, the jutting part of the crown catching on the rim of Dean's hole; dragging across it in what felt like tantalizing slow motion so that he had to pull away from his boyfriend and take himself in hand, stroking over the skin that was slick from pre-come and sweat and his own spit that he had left on Dean's skin to keep himself from fucking into Dean as hard as he could._

" _Oh shit, Dean." Castiel growled out, his voice sounding lower and more primal than anything else he had ever heard coming out of himself. "Fuck, I can't—fuck I'm gonna come. Oh Christ."_

_Dean's hand wrapped around his own again, around the one that was stripping over the larger boy's cock with little to no grace and way too much urgency; bringing Castiel back into a rhythm that he liked and thrusting into it with a throaty, startled moan as he turned his head and watched Cas touching himself with the head of his dick still caught between Dean's ass cheeks and came. Spilling over their interwoven fingers and the wall in front of him while the muscles of his backside unconsciously clenched around the swollen head of Castiel's member, keeping him close as his come pulsed hard against Dean's sensitive entrance._

_Cas stroked himself through his orgasm until his vision stopped spotting, milking the last of his come out of his cock and onto Dean's skin before he wrapped both of his hands around the other man and leaned his weight against him; blearily kissing the freckled shoulders that he loved while Dean slumped with his chest against the shower wall. It was only then that he noticed that the water running down the backs of his legs, barely hitting him now that he was standing so close to Dean, had turned colder and was probably going to lose what little warmth it had left soon if they didn't hurry._

" _Darling come on," he urged, tugging on his boyfriend until he turned in his arms, abdomen a mess of his own seed and a lazily, contented smile on his face. "You wanted an omelet, remember? Now we're running out of water and there are no omelets to be seen, you see the problem here right?"_

" _You're so amazing, Cas." Dean sighed, allowing himself to be pushed playfully into the tepid spray without even wincing and going quickly through the familiar motions of washing himself while Castiel handed him bottles of body wash and shampoo. "Baby, you're just…I love you."_

" _I know," Castiel replied, but it felt wrong in his mouth, backwards like he was saying Dean's line and Dean had said his, and he frowned down at his hands; stepping into the spray with a startled yelp that made him move lightening fast when he felt the cold water against his skin._

_By the time he turned the water off, Dean was already mostly dry and toweling off his hair. The larger boy tossed a towel at him and Castiel dried off in a perfunctory way before pulling back on the pair of Dean's pajama pants that he had slept in along with his fluorescent orange 'I heart Justin Bieber' t-shirt that Gabe and Sam had decided would look better if they crossed out the singer's name and wrote 'cock' instead. Even Dean had said it was a vast improvement when he had pulled it out of the duffle bag that had traveled to Chicago and back with him to wear as he slept._

" _Baby, can you grab me a shirt?" Dean asked, leaning into towards the bathroom mirror and frowning at the stubble that was on his cheeks as he rubbed the flat of his palm over it. "I think I'm gonna shave."_

" _Pants too, of course." Castiel replied leaning in to give Dean a quick kiss on the cheek, he was sort of fond of the stubble and wondered idly if he could talk the larger boy into leaving the growth of hair be for a little while once school got out, just to see what it looked like. "I'll be right back, I think I'm going to get that sandwich that Gabe is always going on about."_

_Dean scoffed and Cas headed towards the bathroom door, glancing back at the other boy who was smiling in the mirror at him before he opened it. And then his eyes took in everything at once: the glint of the gun in John's hand, the shocked and disgusted expression on his face that meant that he had heard everything, the spilled beer staining the older man's shirt, the hole that had been punched into the wall behind John's shoulder, the split knuckles on his free hand as it formed into a fist to hit him in the face._

_It wasn't the punch that jerked him awake and it wasn't the loud slam and crack of the back of his head hitting the bathroom door and it being pulled off its hinges as he fell still clutching the handle._

Only it wasn't that either that had him sitting up on the couch in his living room, the hand that was still clutching his phone even as he slept shooting up to his heart as he jerked himself awake to the sound of the front door slamming and his brother's voice filtering into the living room.

"Sam, I told you they were here," Gabe complained, Cas heard his brother's house keys clatter into the bowl they kept by the front door and then a couple of thumps that were probably shoes being taken off or luggage being set down. "Both the cars are here and THOSE DICK BAGS ARE PROBABLY FUCKING RIGHT NOW! And that's why they forgot to pick us up from the airport."

"I don't know, Gabs." He heard Sam say unconvinced and Castiel was desperately trying to think of what he should say.

He still felt slightly disoriented, his pulse pounding hard in his head mostly in the spot where he could feel a lump had welled up from him hitting his head on the bathroom door in the apartment as he had fallen back after John hitting him as he slept. So that all…had been a dream? That's why it hadn't felt right when Dean had said he loved him, Dean never said he loved him; he never had to. Cas gingerly ran his fingers over the bump, sighing in relief that they didn't come away bloody or anything because he had no idea how he would explain away a concussion to his brother and Sam, but then he licked his lips nervously and felt the sting of the saliva on his busted lip and figured that that would probably be pretty hard to explain too.

Cas glanced at the doorway, listening hard to see how close his family was to discovering him just nonchalantly sitting on the couch in his pajamas with his shirt that had small bloodstains around the collar from where he had pressed the material against his lip in an effort to staunch the flow while he sat dumbstruck in the Impala waiting for Dean to come out of the apartment; waiting for the other boy to get away from John like he had. But his boyfriend had never come and Castiel had been too scared and cowardly to go check on him before the text came from Dean saying, 'No cops.'

He knew that Dean was just trying to protect him, but what was he supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for John to say, "Oh, it's no big deal that I heard you saying you wanted to be fucked, son? I don't care that you're gay? All is forgiven, let's pretend that I haven't made you hate yourself for the last ten years." Cas knew that wasn't going to happen, no chance in hell, but he couldn't take on the older man alone and waiting all night for some message from the other boy saying that he was okay had just driven him crazy, _so what was he supposed to do?_ He wished someone would tell him, a real adult or something.

"Dean usually answers his phone when I call," Sam continued, his voice sounded tight and tired and making Cas feel even worse because it reminded him of how Dean's had sounded when the other boy had been worrying for no reason about how he would do on the SATs. Had that only been a week ago? "And even if it goes to voicemail, he usually calls me back within an hour or sends me a text telling me to fuck off or something. It's not like him to just not answer."

Sam knew something was wrong, could tell in that brotherly way that always caused Cas to just know when Gabe needed a break from cooking or cleaning or being the guardian of him and Anna so that he could actually focus on himself for once. His heart leapt in his throat when he thought of Gabe fixing all of this for him, coming up with a plan as easily as he did his pranks so they could bust into the apartment and save Dean. Should he ask the other two men for help? Would more people get hurt by John if he did? Would Dean ever forgive him if he put Sam in a position to get killed by their father?

"Maybe his phone is dead," Gabriel said, his voice was getting closer and Castiel frantically looked down at his own mostly red, blinking battery icon on his phone like it would tell him what to do. He let out a broken sob when he saw that he had missed calls and voicemail notifications, but then his phone gave the little shutting off trill that was its cheerful death rattle before going completely black. "Did you hear that? Cassie? Deano? Are you assholes here? You motherfuckers better be dead, do you have any idea how much I just spent on a taxi?!"

His brother rounded the corner, stomping into the room in his rainbow colored toe socks to level his most accusing finger at Castiel. Gabe glanced over his shoulder when Sam followed him into the room, pointing hard at his younger brother a couple more times before sighing dramatically and flopping down in the nearest overstuffed armchair; burying his head in his arms as he collapsed.

"You and babycakes owe me seventy six dollars and forty two cents, Cas," Gabriel said wearily, giving a chuckle when Sam's larger hand smoothed over his bowed head. "Plus tip. And that cab smelled weird, like patchouli and weed. So, drying cleaning too."

"That's enough, Gabe." Sam muttered, ruffling the older man's hair affectionately before settling himself onto the end of the couch that Castiel had unwillingly fallen asleep on while he was waiting for some word from Dean; the younger Novak was trying not to cry and to just go quietly insane in his huddled corner of the seat so that he wouldn't beg the other two men to help him, to save Dean so that Dean could save Cas. The younger boy let out a tired sigh and leaned his head back to the rest on the couch behind him, "Don't listen to him, he just needs a nap. Where's Dean?"

It would be so easy to tell them, the truth. Dean is being held hostage by your fucking batshit crazy homobashing father, it's alright though; he probably has it under control. He told me not to call the cops so I'm expecting him to walk in the door with a smile and a large pepperoni and olive pizza any second now. That's probably what the calls were and the voicemails and shit, had there been a missed text message notification too? Cas didn't know if he was going to be able to hold this together much longer.

"He's out, getting um…breakfast for us." So he lied. "And he um…his phone is dead, mine too, see? We forgot to plug them in last night, we were watching a movie in my room and fell asleep."

"Yea, Cas," Gabe scoffed, looking up at him over the curve of his arms with a knowing smirk on his face. "I'm sure you two did a lot of 'sleeping'. Come on, bro. Like I haven't used the sleepover excuse a million billion times; think of who you're talking to for a second."

"How did Dean go get you breakfast if both of the cars are here?" Sam asked from his end of the couch sounding half-asleep, but still managing to crack an eyelid at Castiel when he didn't immediately give an answer. "Cas, whoa dude. What happened to your lip?"

"Oh, uh…this?" he stammered, stomach lurching when his older brother got up out of his seat to move closer to him and take his chin in his hand. Gabe studied the cut with a frown on his face that just got deeper and deeper the longer Castiel watched, so he looked at Sam instead, but the younger boy's expression wasn't much better. "It's nothing guys, I fell."

"You're such a fucking liar," Gabe snapped, dropping his hand disgustedly. "The truth, now. Did Dean do this? Where is he? I'll fucking kill that bowlegged asshole."

"Gabs come on," Sam objected, reaching out for his boyfriend and shooting a startled glance at Castiel who could only shake his head at all the questions he couldn't answer without putting more people in danger. "Dean would never hit Cas. If he said he fell then he fell, okay? Everything doesn't have to be the absolute worst scenario all the time."

Gabriel looked between his boyfriend and his younger brother several times before scrubbing a hand over his face in agitation. "Fuck, you're right. That moron fucking loves, Cas. Sorry, bro. Being in Chicago around all of that trial stuff and having to hear you and Anna talk about it…my head is just…psshh I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay," Castiel whispered, looking over at Sam who still didn't look wholly convinced by his 'I fell' excuse, but he was thankful that someone else could see how much Dean loved him; that it wasn't all something he had blown completely out of proportion in his head like he thought it was sometimes. "But Dean didn't go and get breakfast."

"Well, unless he went to the neighbor's house to get it," Gabe said sarcastically, deciding that Sam's lap looked like the very best place to sit in the whole living room and clambering onto the broad expanse of the other man's knees and thighs. "The closest restaurant is like ten fucking miles and I doubt he walked there."

"What happened, Cas?" Sam asked, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist and forcing him to be still instead of continuing to squirm as he tried to get comfortable. "Did you guys get in a fight for something?"

"Yea," he said quickly, grabbing on to the lie like it was a life preserver as he nodded his head and looked down at his phone again; pushing the power button only to get no response from the deader than dead device. "Last night, he um…he said he needed some space. I don't know he didn't give a reason. Maybe all the trial stuff fucked with his head too."

"Maybe," Sam said, grunting when Gabriel accidently elbowed him in the ribs before smiling apologetically at him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "But it's probably because he blames himself for not being able to protect you from it all. It's ridiculous, I know. You two didn't even know each other then, but that's how Dean is. He'd sacrifice himself and his happiness in a second if it meant the people he cares about didn't have to suffer. And he cares about you, Cas. You should probably go talk to him; I bet he's going stir-crazy in the apartment without his car."

"Yea," Gabe agreed, nuzzling his face into Sam's neck. "You should go make up with him, like now. Because otherwise you're about to get a front row seat to 'The Moose and Gabs Show'."

"Gabriel," Sam said warningly, giving the smaller man a startled look where he seemed to be burrowing into the hollow of his throat.

"We shared a hotel room with him!" The older man objected, gesturing blindly towards Castiel who was just grateful that he had an excuse to go over to the apartment without having to lie anymore; getting kicked out of his house was better than sneaking out, at least this way if no one ever saw him or Dean again they would know where to start looking. "And I just got rid of Anna, thank god for small miracles named Kevin Tran. I don't think I'm being unreasonable for wanting some time alone with you."

"You aren't," Castiel interjected quickly when it looked like Sam was about to object. "I'm just gonna go, I'll text you guys later and let you know if we're staying at the apartment."

"That's it, Cas." Sam told him, giving him a thumbs up before forcibly removing Gabriel from his lap and holding him down on the couch with one hand. "Positive thinking, I'm sure you two will make up in no time."

He nodded at the younger boy and headed towards the door, dead phone clutched in his hand and no plan at all for how he would handle this fucked up horrible situation, but at least he remembered to put on shoes this time. Maybe that was a good sign.

* * *

"Oh god," She muttered to herself, walking as quickly towards her Volvo as she could manage as she rummaged her keys out of her purse. "Ohshitohgodohfuck."

She didn't look back at the building as she unlocked the doors and climbed inside because she knew that the John was watching her, shitty prepaid cell phone pressed against his ear with her boss on the other end who had just told her to keep her fucking mouth shut and get back to Eden, all in that eerily polite voice that made her skin crawl. She could imagine Eve's dead, brown eyes flashing in irritation as the John had explained the bare minimum of the situation to the younger woman; skipping over the parts where he had fucking practically held a gun to her head and made her fuck his son.

Fuck, did that make her a rapist? How fucking old was that kid anyway?

He looked about eighteen, but she had always been shit with guessing that sort of thing. Another fucking skill that she lacked along with self-preservation and intuition which both would have told her that she needed to not take any more house calls because she was really pushing her luck there; Lexi knew it would only be a matter of time before she got a weirdo and while Dean had been nice, too nice and understanding even though she could feel his tears falling on her back when they had done what the John wanted them to do, his father was a fucking psycho.

She had convinced the older man to leave them alone when Dean hadn't been able to get hard and it was probably the only favor that she was going to be able to do for him besides turning off the lights like he had asked so that he didn't have to see her. Lexi didn't take it personally, she may have never been lucky enough to fall in love, but she could imagine how hard it would be to cheat on them just so you could stay alive long enough to maybe see them one more time; even if they hated you for what you had to do to in order to keep breathing.

But Eve knew about all of it now or enough to know that Lexi was freaked out and might go to the cops; she was going to be watched, maybe even sent home with one of the thuggish mongoloids who worked security for the intrepid brothel owner so they could keep her in line. The sun was just now coming up over the horizon, she figured she had enough time to get home and make it look like she was still taking her birth control and get rid of all the pregnancy tests in her home before Eve sent someone looking for her; if she was fast.

"Fuck!" Lexi screamed, pounding the steering wheel of her shitty, used car in frustration until her pinkie finger was throbbing and reddened from the impact.

Had it been a couple of months ago, she would have prayed to Saint Rita to help her through the lost cause that was her fucking miserable life. Had it been a different house call, she would've been stopping at the diner down the street from the apartment complex and getting a peanut butter and banana shake, no whipped cream, before heading back to Eden.

But faith and milkshakes seemed to have abandoned her for now and Lexi knew that despite what reassurances she may have given Dean to help him cope with the guilt he had already obviously been feeling before she left the apartment, it didn't mean anything. Patrons saints of impossible situations and stories about thorns in foreheads being a metaphor for the hard and winding road being the best way to get to your destination, it was all fucking meaningless. But maybe that would be what helped him get back to his boyfriend, maybe it would be what helped his boyfriend forgive Dean for something that wasn't his fault; the fact that it didn't mean anything.

Nothing in her life meant anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, when I warn you that this is going to get worse I really really mean it. HOW MUCH WORSE COULD IT GET? somuchworse But if you can handle it, I'd love to have you keep reading, and if you need to periodically yell at me and curse my name, I'm okay with that too because I promise you I will more than deserve it.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented and bookmarked and subscribed so far, I hope to update on a semi-regular basis (I'm shooting for an average of once a week with chapters being between 7K and 10K words) and this part of the story will be as long as it freaking needs to be to make all of this right. So buckle up, strap in, and hold the fuck on to your feels; it's gonna be a rollercoaster.
> 
> *Edit*Notice the theme of chapter titles being songs continues, it's a weird quirk of mine that makes sense if you figure out which song I'm referencing.


	3. I Can Barely Breathe

As soon as Lexi was gone, Dean stripped the bed.

Mostly because everything felt dirty and tainted now by his betrayal of Cas, but also because he didn't want the reminders of exactly how he had betrayed his boyfriend to stain the sheets that the other boy had picked out just for him, for them. Dean knew it was ridiculous, he had had enough sex with enough people to know that everything would wash out, but his whole room smelled wrong and felt wrong and unclean and not the safe haven that Cas had meant for it to be for them anymore and he just needed everything to stop being fucked up so his heart could start beating again because right now he felt pretty fucking dead inside. He felt like maybe the sheets could be washed, that they could be salvaged, but he wasn't sure about himself.

He kept reminding himself that it was all worth it, everything he did to prove himself to his certifiably insane father that he was 'fixed' or whatever so that he could just get away and get back to Cas. Surely, he would forgive him; Cas had to forgive him because if he didn't then Dean would never be able to forgive himself. This already felt like the biggest mistake of his life and he had said as much to Lexi after he came, which had taken a while because even though his nerve endings kept saying that having sex with the call girl was nice and warm and tight like it was supposed to be when you had sex, biology couldn't override the memories of Cas and how his face had looked after just seeing him talking to Cassie that one fucking time or imagining how much worse the expression would be when he told the other boy about this.

Lexi had just given him a sympathetic look as she had gotten dressed and Dean had decided then and there that he would never blame her for this. She was just as much a victim as he was and by letting John force her to do something that she didn't want to do either even though technically it was her job and she had known what she was coming over for, there was no way that Lexi could have prepared herself for the emotional rollercoaster that she had just been through. Dean just added that guilt on top of all of the rest that he was already feeling and resolved to make this up to her somehow if he ever got the chance.

Once the sheets were off he reached for the pillows because some of Lexi's makeup was on the pillowcases on his side of the bed and nope, the tear stains and the mascara smears were probably even worse to look at than any of the other body fluids that had gotten on the sheets. But when he picked up Cas's pillows on the side of the bed that was furthest away from the door he was hit full force with the smell of his boyfriend; the clean minty smell that made his skin tingle and his heart pound only now it brought how completely and utterly he had failed the other boy into sharp relief as he hugged the pillow to his chest and his knees gave out underneath him.

Dean liked to sleep on the side near the door because even though he and Cas had started to feel like this apartment belonged to just them more than it had ever belonged to him and Sam and their dad when it had been just the three Winchesters living there, Dean had never been able to shake the feeling that something would happen. That John would walk in on them sleeping in the same bed together and just know that they were more than friends even if he had never caught them doing anything else. He had thought that maybe by sleeping near the door he could stop John before he hurt Cas, but he hadn't even been able to do that and the memory of how his boyfriend's head had cracked against the bathroom door after his dad had punched Cas just made Dean sob harder as he dropped to his side on the floor and curled up in the fetal position around Cas's pillow.

He tried to compose himself when he heard his dad coming back into the apartment, not even realizing that the older man had left until his opportunity to run to the next apartment over and beg for help had already slipped out of his grasp. Dean just felt so drained and tired and empty that when John showed up at his bedroom door and looked down on him with his lip curled up in disgust, he couldn't even find it in himself to care that he was getting that look from the one person he used to dread disappointing.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up," John ordered, letting out a heavy sigh as he looked around Dean's repainted bedroom with obvious disdain on his face. "I want you get all of that boy's shit gathered together. Anything he gave you and then pack a bag."

"What do you mean pack a bag?" Dean asked, levering himself up into a sitting position so that he could prop his back against the cushion of his bare mattress. "I have school on Monday, I've already missed a week. I can't miss any more or they aren't going to let me graduate."

"You don't think I don't know that?" John snapped, slapping his hand hard against the doorframe and causing his shirt to rise up enough at his hip that Dean could see that he still had the gun he had been using to threaten Cas tucked into his waistband. "You don't think that the first thing I did when I saw you fucking masquerading with that faggot on the news was call the school and ask why the hell you were in Chicago and not where you were supposed to fucking be? No, if you don't give a damn about your education then neither do I. You're not going back, so pack a bag now."

Dean's heart had started pounding in his chest again which was good because that meant that he wasn't dead, but that also meant that this whole nightmare with his dad didn't look like it was going to be ending anytime soon. He had thought that if he did what John wanted him to do with Lexi then the older man would let him go, consider him absolved of all of his deviant desires for Cas and maybe if he was lucky go back to ignoring him like John usually did. But was he willing to risk Cas's life by refusing to do something that the obviously unstable man with the firearm wanted him to do?

Not in a million years.

He just had to keep up the charade, the perfect son charade that he hadn't realized that he had been resenting and faking for years while John just did whatever the fuck he wanted and neglected him and Sam in the process until just now. Dean could do this and just like with Lexi he didn't really have a choice, not if he wanted to keep Cas safe from John. But he sure as fuck would take the first opportunity to run away from his dad and back to his real family as soon as he fucking could.

"Fine, I'll pack a bag," Dean agreed, climbing stiffly to his feet and going back to stripping the bed and gathering up Cas's things that he had left at the apartment while trying to act like it wasn't breaking his heart by even pretending to be okay with erasing the love of his life from his room because it was. "What am I doing with Cas's stuff?"

"I don't ever want to hear you say his name again," his father ordered, reaching into his back pocket and tossing a small roll of trash bags in Dean's direction. "Just pack up his shit and let's get the hell out of here. I have a job to finish in Eudora and you're coming with me. At least until I'm sure you've learned your lesson."

"And what fucking lesson is that, _dad_?" Dean asked, making sure the sarcastic emphasis that he put on John's title was obvious because after this he wasn't sure if would ever be able to think of the older man as his father anymore. Dads didn't do this, they were supposed to support you and love you and take care of you; he shook his head as he snatched up Castiel's duffle bag that he had left off of the floor and shoved a couple of books that he had borrowed from the other boy into it with stiff, jerky movements.

"You think that this is easy for me?" John retaliated, narrowing his eyes as he watched Dean go around his room and gather books and clothes and CDs that he should've noticed before now as not belonging to his son. "Do you think I like doing this to you? Because I don't, Dean."

"Well you could have fucking fooled me!" Dean shouted, swallowing hard when he saw his father's fist clench at his side and felt the bruising that covered one side of his face throb almost as if in response. He was pushing, being reckless and argumentative wasn't going to get him back to Cas, but he couldn't help himself from being frustrated by John's lack of remorse.

"Despite what you may think," John replied lowly, his voice dangerous and hard sounding as he spoke to Dean through gritted teeth. "I have your best interests at heart."

Dean scoffed in disbelief and went back to carefully packing up Castiel's stuff, arranging everything in the empty spaces of his boyfriend's duffle bag so that maybe Cas would be able to read the message he was trying to project between the t-shits ad the books that were making the bag bulge at the seams. This felt so much worse than when he had packed up Cas's stuff after Thanksgiving, when he had mistakenly thought that the other boy had broken up with him when really Cas just needed space to sort himself out after Dean had seen the scars on his back for the first time.

Back then he had just tossed everything into a box because he wanted to get the reminders of what he had lost so fucking fast as far away as he could before he had started crying and begging Cas to stay with him. But now, now he wanted to hold onto everything that Cas had trusted him with; all of the secrets about his past and the possessions that he had left at the apartment because he thought they would be safe there and the tentative plans they had started to make for their future together felt like it was slipping away from him. It could all disappear for good if he pissed off John enough and that was the only thing keeping him from telling his father exactly where he could shove his sudden interest in Dean's life.

"You have—" John started his voice faltering and causing Dean to look up from where he had gone to find a bag of his own that he could take with him wherever he father was planning on spiriting him off to. The older man cleared his throat and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, the pained expression he had been wearing changing into steely, haunted resolve almost as soon as he saw Dean's movements slow. "I'm doing you a favor, Dean. I know you're pissed off right now and you think that I'm punishing you, but you're just confused. Once you're away from that boy and whatever nonsense he's been filling your head with then you'll understand that."

"Dad, I kissed Ca—" Dean began only to be silenced abruptly by John hitting the doorframe in frustration again, letting out an angry growl this time that was just like the sound he had made right before knocking Dean unconscious with the lamp off the end table in the living room.

"I fucking care how it happened, Dean!" John screamed, face going red with anger before the older man took a deep breath and ran and agitated hand through his hair. "I don't care, alright? You didn't know what you were getting yourself into with him and he took advantage of you being a good person by being friends with him and he twisted into something else. That's what those kind of people do, they drag you down into the filth with them and then run away when shit gets real."

Dean was frozen to the spot, thanking god that it was him who was having to deal with John having very obviously lost his mind and not Sammy because his younger brother would've already popped off about the 'those kind of people' comment and gotten himself killed. But Dean knew how stubborn his dad could be and usually once he had made him mind up it was pointless arguing with him. So if John was crazy and crazy was saying that he was going to shoot Cas if Dean didn't do what he was told and kept arguing with him then Dean was going to not poke crazy with a stick and be surprised when he got the exact response he knew he had been threatened with.

So he just nodded meekly and swallowed down all of the things he wanted to say in his boyfriend's defense because words weren't going to be what kept John from hunting down Cas and planting a round in his chest, his dad was way beyond being reasoned with like a normal person. Rational was just going to end up getting both Dean and Cas killed. John harrumphed in approval as Dean moved to his dresser and started shoving clothes into his backpack before moving out of Dean's line of sight and back down the hallway towards his bedroom that was between Dean and the front door of the apartment.

Dean didn't look at the spiral notebook that was there that he and Cas used to write notes to each other in class with or at the college admission applications that were stuck between its dog-eared pages. He didn't want to think about them, but he also needed some part of Cas to stay with him; a part that was real and tangible and didn't reside inside his chest nestled close to his heart and wrapped around his lungs because right now it felt like that part was trying to claw its way out of his chest taking all of his vital organs with it in revulsion from what Dean had done with Lexi.

But he couldn't think about that or he would start crying and maybe hyperventilating and maybe Dean would finally know how Cas felt during his panic attacks and he could sympathize a little better like he had stupidly always wanted to and then John would know that Dean wasn't 'fixed'; would never be fixed until he saw that his boyfriend was safe and spent the rest of his life making amends to the man he loved for putting them in this situation to begin with. He knew that it would take the rest of his life for him to forgive himself, he just hoped that Cas would be more understanding.

He lingered as long as he could in his bedroom, running his fingers over the blue painted walls and looking forlornly at his guitar in the corner of the room on its stand. Dean doubted he would be back in enough time to play 'Love Me Tender' for Cas on Valentine's Day, but the endgame was being alive long enough to get to play it for the other boy at all; the day didn't matter in retrospect. Dean grabbed up his backpack along with Cas's duffle bag that didn't contain nearly everything that belonged to the other boy that had migrated over to the apartment, but he was counting on John not knowing what was his and what belonged to his boyfriend. He also had a trash bag filled with some random clothes, much of which was really a mish-mash of stuff that belonged to him and stuff that he liked to wear of Cas's; the soiled bedsheets and blankets of his bed he had just left on the floor.

Carrying it all down the hallway and into the living room, Dean stopped short when he saw his dad frowning down at the phone that he had taken from him; making a face at the background picture which was one of him and Cas bundled up against the cold with noses gone red from playing in the snow pressed together in an Eskimo kiss because that's all that Dean had been able to coax out of his boyfriend with Gabe and Sam right there watching them. He didn't realize he was shaking until his dad looked up at him and the older man's frown deepened; John made a move to flip the outdated phone shut but then hesitated, looking down at the device again and then at the bags in Dean's hands.

"That everything?" John asked gruffly, narrowing his eyes at his eldest son's nod suspiciously. "Is he the one who painted that room?"

"Yes," Dean said softly, unable to take his eyes off the phone in John's hand as he calculated the possibility of being able to snatch the device away from the other man before he got knocked out again or worse. "For my birthday."

John gave a derisive snort and looked back down at the phone when it trilled in his hands, causing the screen to flash with an incoming text message and Dean just hoped it was from someone who Cas had asked for help from. Surely the cops would be busting down the door any minute to save him; Sheriff Mills with her no nonsense attitude made the empty spot where his mom used to be twinge in his chest every time she got all soft eyed and sympathetic when Dean had tagged along with Bobby the few times that John had gotten picked up by the cops before either of them could get there. He hadn't really ever talked to her much outside of "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am", but Bobby said she was good people and he trusted his uncle more than any other person on the face of the planet; if Cas had gone to Bobby then everything was going to be alright again soon.

"Who is it?" Dean asked desperately, stupidly knowing that his dad wasn't going to give him a straight answer and regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth because John snapped the phone shut with such force that he wouldn't be surprised if the screen had cracked.

"Did he buy you those sheets too or did you pick them out together while you were playing house in the apartment that I was paying for?" John sneered; thumbing the off-button on Dean's phone and shoving it back deeply into the pocket of his jeans.

Dean could only watch and mouth soundlessly at his dad, resisting the urge to point out exactly who it was that had paid for all the shit in this apartment because it sure as hell hadn't been John, but that would be stupid so he just nodded again and dropped the bags he was holding next to the couch. John jutted his chin back into the direction of the bedroom and failed to hide the disgust that was on his face as he looked at Dean.

"Get those too," John explained. "I don't want any of his shit here when we come back. With any luck by then you won't want it here either."

"How long are we going to be gone? " Dean asked softly, hesitating as he turned back towards his bedroom because he really did not want to go. If they left then how would Cas or Bobby or Sam ever know where to find him, especially if John wouldn't let him touch a phone?

"Until you stop wanting to come back," the older man answered drily and Dean nodded like he understood but really he didn't. Was that how it was for John, did he just never come home unless he had to because he didn't want to? Was it that painful for him to be a father to him and Sam when he was doing it all on his own? "Put all his stuff in the hallway and then we're leaving."

Dean turned away from his dad so that he wouldn't see how his eyes were shining and started back towards his room, ignoring the hole in the wall and the broken bathroom door because he was pretty sure he would collapse onto the floor and not be able to get back up if he did. John would probably just hit him some more or call him weak before shooting him and then Cas would never know what happened to him and he couldn't stand the thought of the other boy not getting a chance to say goodbye. That sounded like the worst form of torture imaginable.

It wasn't until he and John were settling into the older man's truck, John's duffle bag and Dean's backpack tossed into the bed of the pickup that John spoke up and said something that gave his son just the faintest glimmer of hope. But that glimmer was extinguished once he registered the full meaning behind the words, like oxygen being sucked out a fireplace and leaving his heart a barely recognizable cavern full of wispy embers and barely there heat. Heat that felt like it was dissipating the more hopeless his situation got, along with the smell of Cas that lingered on his clothes and the taste of the other boy that had long since faded from his lips.

"You're gonna make a call," John told him simply, cranking the ignition and glancing over his shoulder before he started to back out. Dean watched as the older man grimaced and pulled the gun out of his waistband, settling it instead under his thigh that was the furthest away from his son. "And you're going to say exactly what I tell you to say and nothing more. You understand?"

Dean nodded beside his father and bit his lip to keep from screaming, hands twitching on his lap as they pulled out of the parking lot of the apartment complex and headed east out of town. It felt like the entire universe was conspiring against him and Cas to keep them apart, how much more abuse could his boyfriend take before something finally broke? How many more secrets and lies would it take for Dean to be able to get back to Cas and would the other boy still want the person that he had to become in order to stay alive? Dean very highly doubted it.

* * *

Cas didn't know what he was expecting when he anxiously slid out of the elevator and talked down the hallways of the apartment complex, feeling absolutely none of the self-consciousness that he would usually feel if he were dressed in pajama pants and a blood stained Justin Beiber t-shirt in any other situation. No, he didn't know what he was expecting because his stupid phone was dead and he had slept through someone, probably Dean calling him and begging him for help. He had spent the entire drive over from his house imagining horrible scenarios where John was torturing his boyfriend like his own father had tortured him only Dean's father derived a decidedly different sort of perverse satisfaction from the whole thing than the Revered Novak had.

But he really wasn't expecting to find two trash bags and his duffle bag sitting outside in the hallway in front of Dean's apartment and he wasn't expecting no answer when he knocked until his knuckles started bleeding and cracking against the door that the key on Dean's keychain no longer opened. The locks had been changed and there was no way he could get in unless someone let him in; he hadn't seen John's truck in the parking lot when he had pulled the Impala into the space that Dean liked that was shaded more by the building and less by the trees that housed the annoying pigeons his boyfriend hated.

His imagination ran rampant as he slid down to the floor to rest against the door, his palm laid flat on the fiberboard surface so that he could give his knuckles a rest before he did permanent damage to his trigger hand. Virgil was already pissed enough that he had missed two ROTC meetings to go to the trial no matter how unavoidable the absences had been and with the shooting competition coming up after spring break Cas could risk not being able to hold his gun. ROTC was the only thing that centered him in all the chaos and he was going to need the stress-relief outlet in order to be strong enough to help Dean get over what his father had done to them.

Dean had been strong for him, it only seemed natural to return the favor and support his boyfriend in return for once.

Only Dean wasn't answering the door, why wasn't he answering the door? Oh god, what if he was hurt? What if John had hurt him badly enough that he was unconscious and couldn't even hear his knocking? What if he were lying in a pool of his own blood slowly bleeding to death while Cas just sat outside in the hallway feeling sorry for himself?

That made Cas's heart shoot up to his throat and he started banging on the door to the apartment again, crying and calling Dean's name over and over as frantic broken sobs wracked through him until what he was saying was almost unrecognizable as being a name in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking that if Dean were dead he would just die, there would be nothing left for him to live for and Gabe and Anna would be sad yes, but they had Sam and Kevin. They would go on, but how could they expect Cas to do the same if the other half of his heart, of his soul was missing? If Dean were dead, he was dead; there was no future for him that involved Dean Winchester no longer being in the world.

"Clarence?"

Castiel looked up from where he sat crouched on his knees facing the door, both hands balled into fists against it as well as his forehead as he cried and begged for someone to let him in. He knew his face was a mess of snot and tears and pain and he absently felt that his knuckles had actually started bleeding in earnest down his hands and over his wrists, but Meg was only looking at him with a mixture of shocked concern and confusion on her face and she wasn't Dean so why the fuck did it matter?

"Oh my god," She muttered, moving quickly to stoop down next to him and cradle his face in her hands. "Castiel, what happened?"

"I-it's Dean," he forced out, his voice cracking on his boyfriend's name as a fresh wave of grief and worry and guilt overtook him and made him sob as the smaller woman gently cleared away his tears with one of the sleeves of the hoodie that she was wearing.

"What about Dean? Cas, what happened with you and Dean?" Meg shook him slightly, glancing over his shoulder to take in the bags that were sitting against the wall and arching a shocked eyebrow. "Did you two break up?"

He wanted to tell her, he wanted to tell her everything because he needed to tell someone before he exploded, but he hadn't heard from Dean yet and he didn't want to put any more people in danger. John was pig-headed and rash and angry, a treacherous mix that couldn't be controlled or predicted and involving more people in this just meant that there were more people who would probably get hurt. In his head the equation went something like this: crazy person with a gun + people who disagreed with him = casualties.

John was going the definition of postal right now and Cas just couldn't bear the thought of Sam or Meg or Bobby or anyone else he had come to care about getting hurt because of this, because of him and he knew that Dean would feel the same way. So he nodded his head at Meg's question, knowing that it was just another lie that he was going to have to pay for later, but recognizing that if it kept her from getting shot in the long run that she would probably forgive him eventually.

"Oh sweetie," Meg said consolingly, gathering him into her arms and rocking him gently as he cried into the University of Kansas sweatshirt that Cas was fairly sure was actually Luc's judging from how it hung off the smaller woman's frame. "Do you want me to beat him up? Because I so totally will and I'm pretty sure Jo would help. I doubt I would even have to tell her why we're doing it."

He shook his head quickly, drawing back far enough to swipe his hand over his face in frustration. Cas glanced at the door that obviously wasn't going to open for him and flinched away from the small smears of blood that he had left on the off-white door from his broken knuckles that were already starting to throb and blacken with dark purple bruises that bloomed over his pale skin. He felt foolish, especially now that Meg was here. Dean probably wasn't even in there and if the locks had been changed it had probably been done by the landlord or something so he doubted that someone would've seen his boyfriend dying on the floor and just not done anything about it.

"I'll be okay. I just-"he started, reaching out to touch the door again before he stopped himself when pain shot through his hand and he let out an unintended gasp.

Meg noticed and shook her head briskly, rising to her feet and pulling her along with him; ignoring his protests and snatching up both of the trash bags along with his duffle as she herded him down the hallway and around the corner to her apartment where she had been before she had heard his crying. Apparently she had been the only one with enough of a heart at two o'clock on a Saturday afternoon to go and check on who exactly was making that horrible racket. Jeez, people these days.

He watched as she dropped the two trash bags by the front door and then continued onto the kitchen table with his duffle bag, stopping to unzip it there and unloading a large portion of the books and CDs that he had left in Dean's apartment onto her kitchen table with a sympathetic look towards him as he just watched. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. This felt like it was going too far, like maybe he had lost Dean in some way because of John because why else would he be returning Castiel's stuff to him?

Every time he thought he was getting closer to a solution or an answer to any one of the myriad of questions that he had something else happened and he was left feeling the crack of his head against the bathroom door all over again. Castiel rubbed gingerly at his temple as he watched Meg, he could feel a headache forming that was probably from a lack of food and caffeine and fitful sleep that had been full of beautiful dreams that turned into nightmares in the end. But he couldn't relax, not while Dean was somewhere probably being hurt by John.

He couldn't think of a reason why Dean would have put all of his stuff out into the hallway, but maybe it hadn't been his boyfriend. Maybe it had been John just continuing on his downward spiral of hatred and vindictiveness and this was meant to break him so that he wouldn't want to keep looking for Dean, but Cas had made some important decisions back when he first started this. Back when Dean had first pushed him up against the wall outside of the very apartment he was standing in and kissed him in his wings and he had been so happy and stunned that he thought he would faint, he had decided then that the only thing that would make him leave Dean would be Dean telling him to go.

"You look like complete and utter shit, Cas." Meg told him, glancing up from his bag to give him an apologetic shrug as he looked down at his sleep rumpled and blood-stained attire with a grimacing nod of agreement. "You should go clean up, trust me the last thing you want is for Dean to see you walking around all torn up over him. What happened anyway?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," Castiel sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair which felt greasy and sweaty even though he and Dean had just showe—"Just…it was all my fault and he's….mad. At me, I haven't talked to him since yesterday afternoon and I'm worried. I'm worried that he's going to do something stupid."

 _Stupid and self-sacrificing and stupid_ , Castiel thought; not voicing that part out loud for Meg because that would just lead to more questions that he couldn't answer without putting her in danger. No, it was better if just kept thing vague, let everyone come up with their own versions of why he was acting like a broken-hearted Lifetime movie starlet. It couldn't possibly be because the love of his life was maybe dying in a ditch right now and Castiel had just up and left him with man who been filled with murderous rage over finding out his son was gay or at least gay for Cas which for John might be even worse since Sam was with Gabe.

"Well, tossing all your stuff out like a little bitchy drama queen is already pretty stupid," Meg mused, digging out a pair of jeans and one of Cas's band t-shirts that she tossed at his chest when she moved to plop back down on the couch. "Go on, go change and then you can help me with this. We'll give Deano sometime to cool off and then you two can get all kissy faced and make up again, kay?"

Cas noticed for the first time that the coffee table had a fairly large selection of bridal magazines spread out on its surface and immediately felt bad for pulling his friend away from her happiness over her recent engagement to her boyfriend Luc to deal with all of his bullshit that he couldn't even really tell her about. He mumbled out a affirmative even though honestly he couldn't see how giving Dean time was going to make anything better, if anything his boyfriend needed rescued as quickly as possible because the longer he was with John the longer the older man had to get tired of his son's stubbornness before just writing Dean off as a lost cause and planting a bullet between his eyes.

 _If only I could talk to him_ , Castiel thought turning towards the bathroom even though it made his pulse pound in his ears because Meg and Dean's apartments had the same sort of set up and the jolt of terror that had shot through him right after he had opened the bathroom door to see John standing there kept replaying on repeat in his head over and over in time with the dull throb at the back of his skull.

He bit back a sob that Meg heard anyway. "Cas, honey? Are you sure you're going to be okay? Do you want me to take me to take you home?"

"Can I just stay here?" he asked, hesitating at the end of the hallway that led back to Meg's bedrooms and bathrooms that eerily mirrored Dean's own sparsely decorated, torn up unwelcoming apartment that had only just started feeling like a home that maybe both he and the other boy could share together. "Just for a bit, I won't be in the way. I just…I want to be close if—when Dean comes home so I can talk to him."

"Of course you can sweetie," Meg said soothingly before she frowned in confusion. "Haven't you called him?"

Castiel rifled his phone out of his pocket and held it up so that the other girl could see the blank, black screen. He let out a rueful, self-deprecating chuckle in an effort to mask how desperately he wanted to cry and tell her the whole story of what had really had happened and how he was so worried that he felt like he was going to throw up but he couldn't. Because then it would just become a huge debacle and while Cas was pretty sure that Dean wasn't enjoying whatever punishment John was inflicting on him, he couldn't know for sure that his boyfriend wouldn't forgive the older man.

Cas had been close to forgiving his own father after all, more so that he could stop carrying around the anger that he had held on to for over a year for Reverend Novak and his oldest brother, Raphael, holding him hostage in the basement of their home in Pontiac, Illinois until he had been so desperate to escape that suicide had seemed like the greatest favor he could give to his worthless, tired, broken body. But he had never thought he was as good of a person as the other boy so he hadn't been able to, maybe Dean would still want John Winchester in his life after the older man got help. Part of him hoped not, but it wasn't really his decision to make.

"Give it," Meg sighed, making a grabby hands gesture towards up until he tossed his phone towards her and she plugged it lazily into one of the multiple charging cables that her and Luc kept scattered around the house. "Honestly, you two are the worst at communicating. Once this is charged you're calling him, don't let it stew until it becomes something you can't fix. Trust me on that, Cas."

"I won't," he promised, turning back towards the hallway and fighting back the panic that loomed up in him as he looked at the closed doors that ran along its length. John wasn't going to pop out at him, Dean wasn't dying behind one of those doors, and he could get through this. He had to be strong enough to get through this, for both him and Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm going to keep warning you that this fic is sad. Because it is sad, like seriously the next at least ten chapters (but you know how it gets away from me sometimes) are going to be sad and angsty and you're going to want to track me down and punch me in the arm like really hard for it all. I know that, but I've had this fic and this part of the fic mapped out since the beginning and I promise it has a happy ending. I don't know how long this part of the story is going to be or even if this part will be the last in the 'verse.
> 
> I promise I will pick up the pieces of your feels, but if you can't stand waiting on updates or the suspense then...I can't promise that it's not going to be a while before things get better. It sounds like I don't want you to read, but I really really do. I just feel like you deserve to know what you're getting yourselves into, y'know? So if you stick with me, I promise it will be worth your while or if you decide to wait until this fic is complete before indulging in a binge of sadness and angst that you know is going to end happy, I fully understand and respect that decision too.
> 
> Those of you who are tired of the warnings I promise this will be the last one. *hugs* We'll make it through this together, promise.


	4. Lonesome Town

Castiel didn't know what he had expected to feel when his phone was charged enough for him to finally turn it back on. Relief maybe? Because hearing anything at all from Dean now, even the other boy saying that he didn't want Cas to rescue him would have been better than nothing. Which was what he found when he discovered that every single missed call and text that had blinked up on the screen of his phone before it had died in his hand was from Sam or Anna or Gabe; the trio asking, worrying, and complaining respectively about why they had been left waiting at the airport after their return flight from Chicago instead of being picked by Dean and Castiel like they had previously planned.

Not a single voicemail was from his boyfriend, there wasn't even a measly text to let him know that the other boy was still alive and Cas felt the icy dread clawing at his throat until he was shaking. Meg was so distraught and part of him was aware that the fact that he couldn't force any words out of his throat was just fueling her worry. She had already wrapped three spare blankets around his shoulders before he managed to bat her away so he could curl up on his side on her couch and focus on keeping the looming panic attack at bay instead of her fluttering, frantic movements. His mind raced with all the horrible things John could be doing to Dean. Images of torn, bloody fingernails and smoking shotgun barrels assaulted him behind his closed eyelids so he settled on staring blankly at the wall until his eyes watered from not blinking.

He could distantly hear Meg explaining what was going on to Luc when the assistant professor arrived home from wherever he had been, Castle dimly heard the word library before the image of a blood-spattered Bible flittered through his mind and he curled in tighter on himself until the pain his in chest eased enough that he could draw in a shallow breath. She told her fiancé the version, the lie, that Castiel had told her. He and Dean had fought, somehow it was entirely his fault ("But I highly fucking doubt it," Meg added, glancing at her friend's prone form on her sofa.), and now Dean wasn't speaking to him, wouldn't even answer his phone calls.

That last part was true because he did keep calling Dean, listening to the voicemail message that his boyfriend had breathlessly recorded while Cas had been tickling him one afternoon when they were supposed to be studying, before he hit the end call button, counted to a thousand, and called the other boy again; praying each time that Dean would answer and sinking further and into the dark every time he didn't.

_Four hundred and sixty-three, four hundred and sixty-four, four hundred an—_

"No, he won't even talk to me anymore," Meg whispered from somewhere behind the couch. Castiel gave a slow blink and tried to block her out as he kept counting down the seconds until he could press the send button on his phone; Dean's number was already pulled up and mocking him on the small touch screen. "Jo, no. The last thing he said is 'He's gone.' And then he just laid down on my couch. I don't think Dean is answering his calls, what am I supposed to do?"

Huh, guess she was talking to Jo now. Maybe they thought he was going to have a mental break again, they all had to know about him now. Since everything about the trial had been on the news and the reporters hadn't hesitated in the slightest before hurling questions about 'torture' and 'suicide' and 'hostage' at him and his family every time they had left the Chicago courthouse. Oh, well it didn't really matter if they thought he was losing it over Dean because he was, just not for the reasons that they thought.

"Yea, maybe you should try calling him too." Meg agreed softly. Castiel felt a cool hand touch his forehead, the concerned gesture shocking him into blinking away the grit and tears that had formed in his eyes as he had stared at the wall and counted patiently inside his head. "Shit, now he's crying. Jo, I think this was a big fight. Like one of those ones you can't come back from."

_Six hundred and ninety-six, six hundred and ninety-seven, six hundr—_

"No, you're right. Dean's probably just being a big baby about the whole thing, but really is now the best time for all of this shit? They just got back from the trial and Monday is fucking Valentine's Day...yea, I know...yea, Cas has been real excited for it too, but I don't think it's going to happen Jo."

Meg's voice was moving farther away, into the kitchen where Castiel could dimly hear her clattering around with the pots and pans, probably getting ready to start dinner. He had been watching the fading afternoon light streaming in from the small window in Meg's kitchen and had tried to will the sun to keep from setting so that maybe he wouldn't lose another day with Dean to John. The whole way back from Chicago he had been making plans that involved them and not having to hide from anyone anymore; plans about not being scared and the suddenness that all of that had slipped away from him was overwhelming and more that just a little bit painful.

_Nine hundred and two, nine hundred and three, nine hundred and fo-_

"He's gonna stay here," Meg said, sounding small and tired and just making him feel worse for dragging her into al lof this too. "Gabe's got enough on his plate already...Cas said he would go home Monday, but I told him he can stay as long as he needs to. Dean's probably just off hiding somewhere with his tail between his legs for fucking up this shit again. I'm pretty convinced that he's never going to realize just how much Cas loves him, I mean, Jo. When I say he looked bad when I found him, I mean he looked terrible. Now he's like fucking comatose on my couch and all I can think to do is make him soup, I'm useless at this nursemaid bullshit. Yea...maybe you should. Yea, see you soon. Bye."

Before his phone had finished charging, they had been looking at bridal magazines and Cas had been trying to keep his mind off of Dean by convincing Meg that yellow bridesmaid dresses were more likely to be viewed as a sadistic form of torture by Jo and Anna and Luc's sister than they were to be flattering. It had been normal and then he had ruined it all by being harshly reminded every time the voicemail picked up that he had fucked up Dean's life simply by being in it and it looked like nothing he could do was going to fix it. She was probably sick of dealing with their drama and that's why she was calling in Jo as reinforcements, he knew that most couples didn't go through shit like this. But then again, Cas and Dean had never exactly been like a normal couple.

_One thousand_

Cas pressed the send button and then made sure his speaker phone was on, the earpiece had been making his skin feel hot and tacky and blistered and his hands felt like they were shaking too hard for him to be able to hold it up to his face without knocking a couple of his own teeth out. The ringing started and he knew by now that there would be six of them before it clicked over to the automated message system, but it didn't make the empty seconds between the rings any shorter or the pain when Dean didn't answer any less searing.

_"Hey, uh. Cas, stop! This is Dean and I can't come to the phone right now because I'm either trapped under a car or-No, I'm not saying that dork. Get away from me! Noooo! Baby, you're doing that on purpose! Anyway, leave a message and after I'm done reminding someone around here who's boss, I'll call you back. There, Cas you are the wor-"_ **Beep**

Castiel could still remember the day that Dean had recorded the message: what the other boy had been wearing and how his ribs had still been ticklish under the careful, scientific prodding that Cas was administering after Dean had jumped away from the way Cas's fingers had trailed over his sides while they were kissing. Dean had said the automated message lacked personality and had even joked that they should practice recording a message together ("Y'know, just in case one of our phones die or something," had been Dean's, quick and bashful explanation.) He had known it was the other boy's unsubtle way of alluding to their future, but the sentiment had been pushed aside in favor of more kissing.

He took a shuddering breath in and disconnected the call, not leaving a message yet again because what was the point? Dean was probably dead or at least wished he was and Cas had done nothing to help him. Just waited around like an idiot while John took him away somewhere because he was scared of having more people he cared about get hurt. Dean was going to die and Cas would never be able to forgive himself for it; it would only be a matter of time before the simple act of living without the other boy became unbearable. Until then, all he could do was count.

_One, two, three, four, five…_

Castiel went through three more of his torturous calling cycles before there was a brisk knock on the door and his stomach started gnawing angrily at him, incensed because he was resolutely ignoring the smells wafting out of Meg's kitchen in favor of counting and trying not to cry. Luc had disappeared off to the first bedroom down the hall, the one that in this mirror-reversed copy of Dean's apartment was being used as an office for Luc to grade papers and work on his thesis for his own master's degree in political science. In the other apartment it was John's bedroom and despite the fact he had never looked into the older Winchester's bedroom, Castiel doubted it was decorated in the same tasteful burgundies and mahogany that Luc's office was tatted out in.

"Oh hell no," Jo's voice rang out loudly for Castiel in the quiet vortex that had just become his labored breathing and the endless, stream of numbers filing orderly through his mind.

He felt hands on his shoulders and his view of the white walls in Meg's apartment shifted from the blank space between her television and a bookshelf that had been tilted on it's side when he was lying down to a picture of Meg and Luc dressed up in their Halloween costumes that was hanging on the wall. They had been JFK and Jackie, the couple that he and Dean would never get a chance to be or rather one that was too eerily similar for it to not cause Castiel's stomach to turn queasily from the sudden rush of sitting upright.

Jo crouched down on the floor between his knees, holding firmly onto his shoulder with one hand as the other roamed over his face; the back of her hand pressed to his forehead like she was checking his temperature before she moved to cup his cheek. Her expression was a weird mix of concern and anger, the two warring with impatience as her mouth moved with words that he couldnt' or didn't want to hear. Castiel assumed that it was the latter and tried to shift his gaze back off of her, the blank wall was safer to look at than the face of just another person that he had let down.

"Cas? CAS!" Jo said, her voice snapping him out of his stupor along with a soft slap that she gave to his cheek in order to get his attention. "Okay, we're paying attention now right?"

Castiel nodded weakly, his stubble scratching against the palm of her hand though Jo didn't so much as wince away from the sting that he was sure she was feeling.

"Good," She said, pulling him to his feet causing all of the blankets that Meg had wrapped around him to puddle down onto the couch cushions where he had been sitting. Castiel immediately started shivering again, though whether it was from the cold or the shock of him losing his place in his counting that caused it he wasn't entirely sure. "Now listen close, Cas. Because I'm only going to say this to you once. Are you with me?"

He nodded again and shoved his cell phone deep into his pocket as Jo narrowed her eyes at him before turning him and angling them both towards the hallway that led to Meg's bathroom where he had spent just enough time earlier to change clothes in before he almost hyperventilated and bolted back to the relative safety of the cheerily decorated living room. Cas considered fighting against her once he realized that that was where she was leading him, but he didn't have the strength or the drive to care about struggling right now. Especially not against someone who he was fairly certain was trying to help him.

"Now, I love Dean. He's like my closest friend, practically my brother from another mother, y'know?" Jo explained as she guided him into the bathroom and plopped him down on the closed toilet lid, reaching over to plug up the bathtub and start the water as she continued speaking. "But goddamnit, the boy is a fucking moron. Now whatever he did to make you like this-"

"He didn't-" Castiel started, his voice cracking from disuse before Jo held up her hand to stop him from clearing his throat so that he could continue.

"Save your story for the tabloids, Cas." Jo said not unkindly, giving him a sad smile as she made an up gesture with her hands and he stood automatically, flinching back when she reached for the hem of his t-shirt. "Calm down, dude. You're literally about as sexy to me as Garth on any given day. This is just you needing to feel better and a bubble bath always helps with that."

"I'd rather keep my clothes on," Castiel replied, sitting back down heavily on the toilet lid and crossing his arms over his chest causing Jo to just shrug in response as she turned to start rifling through Meg's medicine cabinet where she pulled out a bottle of purplish bubble bath and dumped a hefty dollop into the steaming water.

"My point being, Cas," Jo continued, sitting down on the edge of the tub with her legs stretched out in front of her as she swirled the steadily foaming water with the tips of her fingers. "Dean fucks up, a lot. A measurement which we both know is an understatement, but whatever he did this time. It isn't your fault, no matter what he might have said when he was angry. So the fact that you're sitting here beating yourself up over it is ridiculous. If he isn't going to answer your calls or speak to you then you just need to give him his space. It's just going to make him more determined that you're better off without him if he finds out that you're sitting around torturing yourself."

"But what if he's hurt, Jo?" Castiel asked, sitting forward on the toilet seat and pushing his palms into his burning eyes with a frustrated groan. "What if he goes and does something stupid because he's mad? I'll never be able to forgive myself."

"How about you worry about forgiving him for tossing all your stuff out of his apartment first?" Jo snapped, letting out an irritated huff as she shook her head at the steaming water. "Sorry, that's just...fuck. It's just like Dean to do something like that, impulsive and hurtful because he has a fucking martyr complex that would put Joan of Arc to shame. Listen, he's probably just at Bobby's or something. He likes to go smash the windows out of the junkers when he's trying to wrap his head around something."

He hadn't thought to call Bobby, what if Dean was with Bobby? What if his phone was just broken or locked in the apartment and all of this was a misunderstanding? What if John had tossed all of Cas's stuff out after Dean had left and then decided to change the locks on the apartment so that he wouldn't have to deal with either of his gay sons coming back to contaminate him with their filth? That was it, right? Dean was probably just fine.

"Plus y'know," the other girl said, twisting the knobs on the bathtub to turn the water off before rising to her feet with a stretch and a sigh. "It's not like you're not going to see him at school, I'm sure by then he will have realized what an idiot he's being by not talking to you. You might have just asked for too much from him too fast, he's not used to having someone other than Sam rely on him for like emotional shit. He's probably just overwhelmed."

Castiel nodded at his knees and let out a heavy breath that he felt like he had been holding since the night before when Dean had told him to run. John probably had hit him, but he really didn't think that the Winchester patriarch would be stupid enough to kill his own son. What would he ever stand to gain by doing that? It would just mean that he had permanently lost Dean and drive Sam even farther away. No, John Winchester was a lot of things; homophobic, a drunk, probably mentally ill, and the very definition of bad parenting. But stupid was not one of those things, at least going off of what little information Cas had about the older man and after talking with Jo he did feel a little better about Dean. He was still worried as hell, but as long as his boyfriend made it to school on Monday then he could probably keep from panicking for at least the rest of the weekend.

"Oh and Meg is making spaghetti and you are going to eat it," Jo declared pausing as she started to shut the bathroom door behind herself. The petite blonde held up a warning finger when Castiel opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't hungry, that he probably wouldn't be able to hold anything down until he saw Dean again and knew the other boy was safe. "No sir. You're going to eat it and if you throw up then you're going to be on a steady diet of Pepto and Saltines for the rest of the weekend. Worrying yourself sick over a silly fight is not going to make anything any better. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Castiel intoned, giving her a half-hearted salute and forcing the barest of smiles on his face so that she would stop giving him that pitying, motherly look that just made the ache in his chest worse. "Bath, food, and then we can try to talk Meg out of picking yellow and pink for her wedding colors."

"Oh no," Jo said, making a face and shaking her head quickly. "Its gonna look like a baby shower threw up all over me, that is not going to work. We're all gonna look like complete crap in those colors, who knew Meg was so fucking girly?"

"Not me," Castiel said with a shrug, watched with a slightly more genuine smile as Jo huffed and shut the door; he double and then triple checked that the door was locked before he started striping out of his clothes.

The water was near scalding, just how he liked it, and felt like a soothing compress for the bruises that were on his elbows from hitting the floor in Dean's bathroom. Cas tried not to think of how when he had left Dean's apartment John had just hit his son across the face or of the purpling marks that so often peppered his boyfriend's skin in places that wouldn't be seen unless the other boy undressed. John knew how to hide the bruises, but there was no way that Dean wouldn't be sporting some sort of shiner at school on Monday. Castiel hoped the obvious injuries would finally be enough that the school might step in and get the people who might be able to help his boyfriend involved. Sheriff Mills had been nice at the dance, Cas couldn't imagine her not doing something to help Dean when he so obviously needed it.

By the time the bubbles had started to fizzle out around him, Cas had already decided that Luc probably wouldn't miss the little bit of the shampoo that he used to carefully wash his hair; tenderly pressing on the large lump at the back of his head to see if it was going to start bleeding again while trying to remember the signs of a skull fracture from when he had had one after Lake Forrest. He figured he had already fucked up by falling asleep while waiting on Dean to call him, so the nausea and dizziness were probably just because he was hungry and not a concussion of some sort.

It wasn't until he was headed back towards the living room, damp towel draped around his neck and phone pressed to his ear as he tried to call Dean again that he heard Meg and Jo arguing in hushed whispered with Luc. The voicemail kicked in and Cas quickly ended the call before the sound of Dean's recorded voice caused his heart to break all over again, leaning instead towards the sound of the trio's discussion that was taking place in the small dining room that bled into the kitchen as he stuck to the shadows of the hallway.

"I'm telling you, Meg," Luc said lowly, his voice sounding remorseful and tired. "I was Dean's age once upon a time. Plus I'm straight so I know, don't be mad at me for telling you my opinion when you two came and asked me for it."

"I'm not mad at you!" Meg practically screamed. Cas heard a loud shush from Jo along with a strange crackling sound that he couldn't place, he was tempted to glance around the corner to see what they were talking about, but something in his gut was telling him that he didn't want to know. "I'm just...I'm mad at the fucking situation okay, Luc? He's gonna make Cas have like a mental break and then throw all of his shit out, but not before he fucking cheats on him?! That asshole is dead. Beyond dead."

"Okay, we don't _know_ though do we?" Jo interjected in a hurried whisper. "We. Don't. Know. And until one of us is able to talk to Dean about it we just need to go off the only information that we _do_ have, which is that Dean and Cas fuck like its the end times so that's probably all it is. Alright? Don't jump to conclusions."

"I just wanted to do some fucking laundry," Meg complained and there was the crackling sound again as her voice moved farther away, towards the small stacked washer and dryer that was off the kitchen if Castiel had to guess. "Poor kid has been living out of a duffle bag for a week and now he has to deal with Dean's emotionally stunted bullshit. I warned him, Jo. But did he listen to me? Nooo, fucking green eyes dragged him right the fuck in…"

Meg's voice was muffled now and Cas couldn't make it out, but judging from what little he had heard it felt like the bottom was dropping out of his stomach. Luc was wrong, Meg was wrong, and nothing in the world would convince him that Dean could ever...Dean had liked girls before though and Castiel hadn't ever really expected the other boy to just stop noticing a pretty face just because he was around. It would be selfish to ask that much from Dean and he had always been happy with what they had because it was all that he had ever wanted with another person, but if Dean needed... _that_ from someone, he was more than fairly certain that Dean would want it from him. Especially with how he had been talking in the shower.

Cas shook off his doubt and headed around the corner, making a concentrated effort to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping as he ruffled the towel through his hair one last time. Luc was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Jo as she carefully packed the books and other assorted knick knacks that had been left in the hallway by Dean back into his duffel bag so that she could make room for the stack of plates that were sitting near her elbow. Meg was halfway hanging out of the small closet that housed the wash and dryer, still muttering to herself until she turned around to see Cas standing there; the black trashbag that his clothes and Dean's linens had been in hanging limply in her hands, deflated like the saddest, neglected Thanksgiving Day parade balloon ever.

"Hey hon," Jo called brightly, shooting Meg a warning glance until the brunette started moving; shoving the empty trashbag into her recycling bin as she ambled over to the table with a nonchalance that was not believable in the slightest. "Dinner's ready and I've officially talked Meg into anything color besides yellow. Pink is still on the table though, Luc has begged her to change her mind. Haven't you, Luc?"

"Yea yea," Luc agreed quickly, giving Castiel an apologetic look before the plates rattled on the table and the older man let out a startled curse that he tried to cover with a cough. Jo glared at him for a second before hefting the duffle bag over to sit underneath the coat hooks by the front door and returning quickly to spread the plates quickly out around the table. "Anyway, Cas. It's good to see that you're feeling better. Hopefully you can talk some sense into my old lady before I'm forced to walk down the aisle wearing a magenta ascot."

"If you're thinking that you're going to be the one walking down the aisle than we have bigger issues here, buttercup," Meg said, dropping a kiss onto Luc's upturned forehead before she dropped heavily into one of the chairs and watched while Jo busily moved food from the kitchen to the table with the same kind of motherly air that Ellen had when she was cooking for the houseful of teenagers that she routinely woke up to discover lounging around her house.

"We're a progressive couple," Luc argued, nudging her jokingly until she allowed him to take her hand and hold it in his; lacing their fingers together. "I'll even take your last name if you want me to. You can toss my garter and I'll toss your bouquet, there are no rules when you're getting married."

Castiel felt his heart give a painful lurch when he thought of how he and Dean fit together perfectly just like the other couple before he quickly took the seat at the opposite end of the table from Luc, next to Meg. Jo strategically placed a bowl of garlic bread near him before snatching up his plate and loading it down with steaming noodles and marinara sauce, more than he could ever possibly eat with the way his stomach was contorting, but he would try for her. Dean would be mad if he showed up to school looking like a skeleton on Monday and all of the lingerie that he had bought almost as a joke for the other boy's Valentine's Day gift wouldn't fit right if he lost too much weight.

"So colors," Castiel said, picking up his forking and cautiously winding spaghetti around its tines as he forced himself to think positive because Dean was alive, he was; Cas could just feel it in his bones. "I always thought teal was a good spring color, mature. Pastels for an April wedding would be really predictable."

* * *

Naomi always made a point to get to work early. Usually she would arrive long before the janitors so that she could drop off the usual box of donuts that she picked up on her way to work; the one that everyone thought that Tessa actually brought because there was no way that cold hearted Principal Tapping bought breakfast for her coworkers every single day. Nor did she start the first pot of coffee in the break room since she was always complaining about the teachers finishing it without starting more for other people. Hardass that she was of course she didn't tip out some of Chuck's 'hidden' break room bourbon into the sink every morning so that it was just a little bit more than the other man wouldn't get a chance to drink; though she hadn't found a new bottle in his usual hiding places in quite a while.

Of course she did all those things. Along with sorting through the mail if it was stuck into the school's oversized mailbox by the time she got there, just one more job that the overworked receptionist didn't have to do and one that Lila didn't like to pass off to the student office aides because they were too tempted to snoop through the interoffice memos that the teachers got in their individual pigeonhole mail slots. Naomi did a lot of things that no one asked or expected her to do, was way more concerned about her students than a lot of people thought, and knew exactly why Dean and Sam Winchester had been out of school for the last week despite what the man who had claimed to be their uncle had told Lila when he called.

But she was still expecting both boys to be back when the Novaks returned to school and the principal had already sent an email out to all the teacher asking for them to be understanding when all four students returned, stating that they needed to be reasonable with the dates they set when they handed over all of the work that their charges had missed during the week they had been in Chicago. Spring break was coming up soon and it felt like graduation was just looming around the corner, Naomi was just as ready for the break away from the school and all of her fellow teachers as the students were.

Valentine's Day found her going about her usual routine; disarming the alarms and flicking on the hallway lights as she passed sorting through the large bundle of mail that was disconcertingly peppered with red and pink envelopes containing wishes for a happy holiday that some former students sent to the administration no matter what the actual occasion was. The President's Day cards were right up there with the Arbor Day ones as being some of the strangest pieces of mail that Naomi had ever seen. But then again, it was always nice to hear back that kids she had watched struggle through the hierarchies of high school were doing well.

Naomi leaned up against the high counter top that separated the scattered chairs and potted plants that made up the office waiting from from Lila's desk, the teacher's mail slots, and the door that led to Naomi's office in the back corner of the room; sorting the envelopes into stacks for each teacher as she hummed an old Ricky Nelson song under her breath that was absolutely not in the spirit of the love-themed holiday. She had watched Pulp Fiction the night before, alone with her cat and it was either humming anti-love songs or the one about counting flowers on the wall which would be stuck in her head all day if she started thinking about that one.

The mail was just more of the usual: random Valentine's Day cards for random teachers (not all of them got one and rarely did a former student think to send one to more than just the instructors who they had felt close to), notices reminding some of the older teachers to check their retirement and pension funds, a bland form letter from the union reminding them that it was that time of year for open enrollment again, and a slim pale blue envelope that was addressed just to her in familiar, spidery script.

_Well at least it's something new,_ Naomi thought, neatly slitting the top of the envelope with the letter opener that she had retrieved from Lila's desk and pulling out the page of stationery that was inside along with a piece of plain white copy paper that had a small, dark rounded image printed on it.

' _Dearest Naomi,_

_I hope that isn't too forward, "dearest". It feels normal to write it and I am more than sure it would feel amazing to say it, to call you that like I've wanted to for all of these years, but you know how I am with words… I've been trying to think of what I wanted to say to you for a while now, since long before New Year's Eve and maybe I should've said something before then, but I feel like it wouldn't have been fair to saddle you with any unwanted declarations when all you've ever offered to me is friendship and understanding. I'd hate to lose those things, but without an explanation I don't know if I can continue moving forward with the program I'm in. Attached is a copy of my one month chip from AA. I know a month isn't anything to brag about, but I've been encouraged to see my progress instead of focusing on the years that I wasted failing myself and everyone around me; especially you._

_Naomi, I want to apologize for all the ways that I failed you. Not just your shoes, which I've given Tessa the money to replace to give to you if you want it, but also for not being the type of person who is brave enough to stand up to the school board and say the things that you haven't been able to say. The politics of being a principal have kept you from standing up to the intolerance that runs so rampant in this school, the school board has tied your hands and I should have taken the initiative long ago to take that bullet for you and your family so that the student's at this school wouldn't have to deal with the same kind of narrow mindedness that your family had to deal with. I've brought the matter to the local PFLAG chapter and they have decided to start a petition that will call for a re-election of the school board members at the end of this year. I know its not much, but for a recovering alcoholic/coward its about the best I can do for you._

_As for me and you (not to presume that there is a 'you and me', is there?) I know I've probably lost my chance if there ever was one with you. But in the spirit of the holiday I've decided to tell you that I love you. Since the first day that you introduced yourself to the faculty as the new principal, determined and fearless in ways that I never will be, I knew that you were someone who's life I wanted to be in in whatever way you would have me. I'm under no illusions that you feel the same way, especially after all of the times that you have seen me at my absolute worst, but I felt like you needed to know and that maybe we could start to fix our friendship if nothing else._

_Being in recovery has taught me to value the things in my life that I can't live without and you are one of those things Naomi. No matter what you decide to do, know that nothing will change how I feel about you and just having you speak to me again would be more than I could ever hope to expect._

_Love always,_

_Charles Elyon Shurley'_

The office had started to fill around Naomi; Lila bustled in muttering under her breath about kids these days and cleaning her glasses that constantly hung on a chain around her neck with the edge of her cardigan. The hallways outside the office were steadily filling in with the early bird students who always showed up early and loitered in the hallways, right now they were carrying various balloons and bears and boxes that were tagged red and pink in the honor of the holiday; chattering excitedly about who the gifts were meant for without a care in the world. She saw Virgil and Pam pass by together, heads bowed low and hands brushing between them as they walked like they were fooling any of the students or other teachers by being discreet; at least they weren't having sex in their classrooms.

She read the letter one more time, trying to force the giddiness that she could feel building in her chest from manifesting itself as girlish giggles that would completely undermine the steadfast persona that she had been cultivating for all of these years. After that second read through Naomi passed off the task of sorting through all of the mail; apologizing to Lila before briskly making her way down the hallways in the general direction of Chuck's classroom with the letter folded neatly, but clutched like a grenade that was about to go off in her left hand.

The closer she got though and the more students that she saw in the hallway, talking and laughing and letting out surprised little exhaltations of surprise over gifts that had been left in their lockers, the more Naomi started to doubt that Chuck actually meant the words that he wrote in his letter in the way that she hoped he did. There were a lot of different types of love afterall. Maybe the English teacher had meant philia and storge, the kind of affectionate and familial love that Naomi associated with her siblings and that Chuck probably felt for her since she so often was there to be the shoulder that he leaned on. What if it wasn't eros or agape that the man felt for her? The heady, intoxicating, physical need to have her in his life like Naomi had to be amongst the towering stacks of books that traversed Chuck's apartment like she was always meant to be there. It could very well be possible that she was reading more between the lines of his handwritten letter than he meant for her to simply because she wanted to.

Naomi slowed her pace, lingering in the hallways as she watched the students talk to each other; the couples standing close enough that she should probably reprimand them, but it was Valentine's Day and Naomi just couldn't bring herself to rain on their parade. Joanna Harvelle was practically bouncing in place as Adam Milligan clasped a small golden necklace around her neck before she the smaller girl spun around and pressed him against the lockers with a kiss that lost some of its heat once the male student pointed out that they had an audience that included the principal.

She could only smile at them with a wry tilt to her head that urged them to save it for after school before continuing on to the next hallway that housed half of the senior lockers and Chuck's classroom. Miles Lindberg was standing with Castiel Novak and Krissy Chambers who had her hand fixed snugly in one of the mulleted student's back pocket, speaking in low and concerned tones with the other senior who had dark circles ringing his blue eyes and was wearing a grey Henley that seemed to hang of his tired frame. The trial had probably been the type of ordeal that no teenager should ever have to go through, which was just another reason why Dean and Sam missing a week of school was not on the principal's number one list of concerns.

Chuck's homeroom was full of freshman, a fact that the English teacher both hated because most mornings he was nursing a hangover that wasn't helped by the chattering of a classroom of fourteen and fifteen year olds and loved because the student's zeal reminded him of why he had started teaching in the first place. When the warning bell signaled, his classroom was already halfway full of girls cooing over boxes of chocolate or tasteful cards that had really been picked out by their boyfriends' mothers because a card singing the latest pop ballad was not romantic in the slightest and the older women knew that better than their sons.

He had always thought that homemade, handwritten cards were much more thoughtful, but then again he had always been much better with the written word that abstract gestures of affection. After talking to Tessa about how he could make up for the debacle that was New Year's Eve to Naomi, sending a letter had just seemed like the most obvious choice, but almost as soon as he had dropped it into the blue outgoing mail bin at his apartment the panic had clutched at his chest and Chuck had wanted nothing more than to crawl inside the metal container and retrieve what surely was the most awkward confession of love ever written. The grizzled, sleep deprived older man had briefly considered dropping a match down the mail chute, but had thrown that idea out when he had decided that bringing down the wrath of the fire department on his neighbors probably would not make him very popular.

So all he could do was wait for the hammer to drop; for Naomi to either come to him and tell him that while his confession was sweet it was not reciprocated or to drop off the paperwork for sexual harassment and tell him to stay the hell away from her. Chuck honestly believed that either of those outcomes would be better than the waiting, which he had been doing since dropping the letter in the mail during the middle of the last week; prompted to be brave by the stiff-shouldered way that Dean had pushed a path through the reports clogging up the steps of the Chicago courthouse so that Castiel could get through and inside the building. If a kid almost half his age could stand up to a pack of rabid reporters and the homophobia of a significant portion of the country, well then Chuck had figured that he could at least put pen to paper and stop being such a wuss about his feelings.

The rest of his student's poured in and Chuck gave one last glance to the list of the morning announcements that Pam had dropped off for him on her way to her own classroom, something she had been doing for him since he had taken to avoiding the office and the perpetual cold shoulder that the woman he loved had turned on him, before a knock interrupted him just as he was about to begin rattling off more of the same insipid rules that the school board kept trying to shove down the students' throats. He more than secretly hoped that all of those old bastards got what was coming to them from PFLAG and every kid like Dean and Castiel who wouldn't hesitate to stand up to them, but the sentiment paled when he saw Naomi standing in his doorway looking more unsure of herself than he had ever seen her and clutching a very familiar looking piece of stationery in one of her hands.

"Chuck," Namoi started, taking a hesitant step into the room before she noticed that all of the background chatter, that constant buzz of energy that teenagers just seemed to always exude, had ceased as soon as the freshman saw the principal standing in the doorway. He saw her tense before she was probably even consciously aware that she was doing it and his heart leapt in his chest when she pushed a stray curl that had fallen out of her usual bun back into place behind her ear. "I mean, Mr. Shurley. Can I speak for a moment?"

"Yes!" Chuck answered quickly, jumping to his feet and causing the students in the front row to flinch slightly when the movement caused the perpetually filled coffee mugs on his desk to rattle ominously. "Yesyes, give me um...Kevin! Come up here and read the announcements for me, after that guys just uh...study, quietly."

He tugged at the rolled up sleeves of his button down as he moved towards the door, smoothing down his tie and wondering if Naomi would notice that he had ironed everything he was wearing. It had taken burning a hole through a t-shirt that he used to be rather fond of and a dress shirt that he hated before he had finally given up and asked his kindly next door neighbor to show him how to use the Christmas present that he had gotten from his boss over a year before. Chuck had also trimmed his beard, unwilling to part just yet with that particular security blanket even though shaving was less daunting now that his hands didn't shake all the time anymore.

Chuck stepped out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click before taking the few steps down the hallway where Naomi had stopped with her back towards him; her shoulders tight under the purple blouse that she had on with the pencil skirts that she liked to wear when the weather was warm enough to warrant it. He immediately felt bad because he hadn't meant to make her so upset with his letter, but his sponsor had told him that it would be cathartic to put the words down on paper and it had been until it slipped down the mail slot; then it had just led to the most stressful weekend of his life.

"Hey, um…" Chuck started, wanting to reach out to Naomi when she turned to look at him, her face a mask that he used to be able to read so well with eyes that searched his own looking for what he didn't know. "If you mad or if you just want me to back off I get it, I just...I thought you should know. But honestly Noams, could the mailman have worse timing?"

Naomi had turned prepared to search through the clouds that always covered Chuck's gaze, but had been surprised to find the familiar blue eyes of the other man clearer and more piercing than she had ever seen them; reaching past her defenses to make her forget how to breath for just a second. That second was more than enough though for the other man to get an awkward joke in and for him to use the nickname that no one else dared to use besides her sister and Tessa. It was comforting to know that even though they hadn't talked in a while that they could still pick up where they had left off. Since the disastrous events of the New Year's Eve party when she had realized that until Chuck saved himself she was just reliving the same cycle of unhealthy codependency that she had left behind with Scott in New York Naomi had kept her distance, but now...maybe now she could stop torturing herself by staying away when it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I think the mailman has pretty amazing timing, Chuckles," Namoi replied softly, melting when Chuck smiled at the use of her own nickname for him before she realized that she could actually see his smile instead of it being hid behind an unkempt, bushy beard. He actually looked really good, put together and well rested like she had never seen him look; it was doing extremely dangerous things to her self control. "You could have saved yourself the postage though, given me this in person or just talked to me."

"Do you know how scary Lila can be when you've told her not to let anyone bother you?" Chuck asked, earning an unladylike snort from the other woman that he wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of his life. "And the talking...y'know words...hard."

"You're not doing bad right now," Naomi said softly, looking up the few inches that still separated them despite the heels that she was wearing with her skirt; she had always liked that Chuck didn't use his height to intimidate people. "And we probably could've both saved ourselves the suspense. Five years is a long time to wait to drop a bomb like this on a person."

"Are we talking an atomic bomb here?" Chuck asked hopefully, taking the chance to step in close enough to Naomi that he could touch the back of her hand that was still clutching the letter that he had sent her. "Or like...one of those really shitty firecrackers that just has bomb in the name, but no one is surprised when it doesn't live up to its name?"

"I feel like you're insulting yourself somewhere in there," Naomi replied, grinning down at his hand bemusedly before she caught his fingers with his free hand and laced her own digits through his. "And its like a little flash bomb; surprising, but not devastating. No loss of life or anything."

"Well that's good," the other man agreed, "Because I like to think of myself as a lover not a fighter."

"You did not just-"

"I did just," Chuck interrupted causing Naomi to let out a chuckle that she buried behind the letter in her hand as she looked up at him underneath her eyelashes. "So I'm not getting rejected here right? Because I know my moves are a little unorthodox, but I would like to take you out."

"Tonight would be a horrible night to try to go on a first date," Naomi pointed out, sighing when she saw that Chuck's fingertips were still with ink from the ribbon of his typewriter; everything hadn't changed then, Chuck was still Chuck and he was in love with her. "Everywhere is going to be busy."

"Tomorrow, the day after, any night," Chuck said quickly, sounding just like his normal self and reassuring Naomi that this wasn't in fact a dream or a desperate Valentine's Day hallucination. "Hell you can come over and eat leftover Chinese and I will watch whatever horrible reality show you want. I just...I want this...with you. I always have."

"Are you really in AA?" Namoi asked suddenly, needing to know because that was going to be the deal breaker for her; unlike his ex she liked the writing and how Chuck could get lost in the worlds he created for his characters, but sobriety was going to be a must. "I don't think you're lying, but I need to know you're serious. I need to know its going to stick."

"I am and Noams, I can't promise it's going to stick. But I can sure as hell promise to try, especially if having a drink means losing the possibility of this." Chuck replied earnestly, running his thumb over the back of her hand in short, soft strokes that helped ground him from how elated he was by the possibility of Naomi feeling the same about him as he did about her. "I would really like to kiss you now."

"Chuck, you have a classroom full of students-"

"Naomi!" A voice called from down the hall, the brisk tapping of heels on the tile floor and the familiarity of the voice giving away the guidance counselor Tessa as she stormed towards the principal with a determined look on her face. "We need to talk, I just got the strangest call fr-am I interrupting something?"

"You really do have the worst timing, Tess." Chuck replied, not taking his eyes off of Naomi even as she blushed and ducked her head; giving his hand one last squeeze before she pulled it out of his grasp. "Even worse than the mailman."

"I don't understand that joke," Tessa said impatiently, tapping her foot as she spoke. "But I am happy to see that you two have worked your crap out. However, I do need to borrow our boss to sort out a situation before you two sneak off to make out in a closet somewhere. Don't even deny it, Naomi. I'm your best friend, remember?"

"We'll talk later," Naomi mumbled, looking completely mortified by the other woman's statements, but not denying anything that the guidance counselor had said as she turned to go with Tessa. "I'll um..I'll come by during your off period, maybe we can go to lunch together or something."

"Yea, of course," Chuck agreed quickly, letting her take a couple of steps before a thought struck him and he dug frantically through his pockets; coming up with his red One Month chip from AA that he held out towards her. "And uh...take this...so I know that you have a reason to talk to me later."

"I'll tell Lila to stop guarding me, Chuck," Naomi said, putting up her palm to stop him as he reached to put the chip into her hand. "You don't have to-"

"I trust you not to lose it," he said softly, curling her fingers carefully over the cool, raised metal. "Also I need a reason not to hide myself away from you, because y'know...as soon as you walk away I'm going to freak out about all of this."

"Well she will too," Tessa said quickly, making a come on gesture with her hands when both Naomi and Chuck gave her a pointed look. "I'm being the honest expediter here. You both like each other and you both have issues with relationships, you're both going to try to talk yourself out of this. Don't. Can I have Naomi now? Because I've got some serious fuckery going on and zero time for this."

"Yea, go," Chuck said with a sigh, giving Naomi one last smile as she mouthed 'I'm sorry' at him and turned to follow Tessa who had already set off back down the hallway. "I'll just...go back to molding the minds of the future and stuff, don't mind me."

Naomi didn't even try to hid the stupid smile that was on her face from Chuck's last comment, just let it wrap around her so that it could buoy her up for whatever it was that Tessa needed her for; guidance counselor emergencies usually involved SAT scores and schedule changes, nothing life or death that the other woman couldn't usually deal with by herself.

"So I know that you've been keeping it up with the trial," Tessa explained as the walked, the hallways echoing with her words even though she was speaking softly. "Castiel's trial. Lila told me that you've been worried about him since the dance and I know that Alistair and Azazel's in-school suspension is almost over, but I wasn't sure if you've been keeping up with Dean Winchester…"

"Well," Naomi began, following her around the corner and into her office that was little more than a decently sized closet that Tessa had still managed to make her own. "I know that both of the Winchesters were in Chicago all that week with the Novaks, but they're not behind in any of their classes so I'm sure they will have no trouble catching back up-"

"Not Sam," Tessa interrupted, settling behind her desk with a tired sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I went by his homeroom to make sure he was here before I came to find you, I thought that maybe something had happened with the family and that their father was pulling them both out for some reason or another. But Sam is here and the message that I walked into find on my phone this morning is just too strange, especially since Dean just took the SATs and Castiel said they were both applying to the University of Kansas. I had already started looking for scholarships and work studies for him because we both know that their father isn't going to help him with anything-"

"What is going on with Dean, Tess?" Naomi asked, stopping the rambling that the other woman only ever did when she was really agitated about something.

"He called over the weekend and left a message," Tessa explained, reaching towards the office phone that was sitting on her desk and turning it towards the principal who had sat down across from her in one of the hard plastic seats that students usually used. "Noams, he said that he's dropping out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some Chuck/Naomi resolution, at least a little. Everything isn't always dark, it will be for Dean and Cas for a while, but I promise that this fic will get brighter after a good long while. Thanks to everyone for the comments and such, I've had some computer trouble but it's been taking care of so hopefully I will get back on track with posting in a timely manner. Much love everyone for your patience. :*


	5. Entendre

Dean stopped counting on Monday.

The task of keeping track of the hours and minutes and seconds that had passed since his dad had found him and Cas together and proceeded to tear his life apart; it was just too disheartening and frankly, exhausting. The missing chunks of time when he had been knocked unconscious from his fight with John or passed out in the passenger seat of the truck because it gave him a short respite from the throbbing ache in his skin from his various injuries didn't help when he had tried to add it all up on his fingers either; fucking math.

Maybe it was better that John had made him leave that message for the school, Dean was pretty sure that the jig would've been up with Cas anyway once his SAT scores came back and the other boy realized that they was no chance in hell of Dean getting into any college anywhere. It was part of why he had been so desperate to have Cas top, eager to convince the other boy that if nothing else Dean was good for at least one thing and might keep him around until he found someone better, smarter, more deserving of someone as strong and as wonderful as the other boy.

So he stopped counting, partially because he lost track of the time since his life had turned to shit, but mostly because a small, vicious voice inside of him was telling him that this was all for the best anyway; Cas was better off without him. Cas didn't need anymore drama in his life after having just gotten over everything with his own dad and maybe it was better that everything between them came crashing down on the heels of such a huge personal triumph for the other boy. But he was selfish and too greedy to leave Cas alone when he really knew that all of this was probably a huge fucking neon sign that he should.

It was probably the most fatherly thing that John had ever done, reminding him of all of that. Reminding Dean that he was damaged (always had been), poison (wasn't that why his mom had left after all?), _dirty_ (the only thing, incidentally that John did blame on Cas).

"And you're just encouraging that little deviant by telling him you love him and shit," John was saying as he pulled up to a dingy looking motel that was far on the outskirts on the bad side of the small town that they had just passed through. "It's, just not right, Dean. Are you listening to me, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Dean acknowledged even though he had tuned his father out again once he had noticed that they were stopping at an actual hotel for the first time all weekend.

They hadn't stopped anywhere besides dingy gas stations and roadside rest stops since leaving the apartment early Saturday morning and even then John had shot him suspicious and threatening looks anytime that Dean's hand had so much as strayed towards the handle on his door. John kept pointedly touching the pearlized grip on his handgun anytime Dean tried to steer the conversation in the direction of how they should probably go back; mentioning that the school probably wouldn't take his message saying he was dropping out seriously if he still showed up for class and dropping hints that Sam would eventually start to wonder where he was sooner rather than later.

But his dad wasn't listening or if he was then he was putting on a very good show of acting like he wasn't so Dean decided to save his voice for when he finally got the opportunity to use it to call for help. And now that they were stopping somewhere that he could maybe do just that, Dean tried very hard to not show how anxious he was to finally get out of the car for anything more than a piss and a stretch on the side of a road somewhere.

His reluctance to break their uneasy truce was based more on the fact that John would most definitely beat him back to Lawrence if the older man got pissed off enough and left him on the side of the road somewhere rather than any stubbornly lingering familial affection. Dean had no doubt that the first thing the still surprisingly sober John Winchester would do upon returning home would be to go over to the Novak house to punish everyone he thought deserved it, Sammy and Cas and anyone else who got in his way included.

"Good," John replied tersely, throwing his truck into park right in front of the office of the hotel; it was still early but there was a sleepy looking woman with a Dorothy Hamill haircut watching them disinterestedly through the window. "Now, I'm gonna go get a room. You, stay here. Don't do anything else stupid."

Dean nodded, not even having to feign the way his shoulders were slumped in defeat because there's no way he could just bolt without John seeing him and catching up with him. No, he would have to wait until his dad was asleep or something so that he could call Cas and tell him where he was; then Cas would send Bobby or Sam or maybe Sheriff Mills to come and get him and Dean had already decided that there was no shame in being rescued despite whatever disparaging remark John made about him being a damsel in distress.

He was almost surprised that no one had caught up with them yet, but when they passed through Topeka and then Junction City on just their first day of driving Dean had realized that everyone would be looking for him in Eudora where John's latest job and taken him instead of in the opposite direction. Dean didn't exactly know where they were at this point, but the irony that there was literally no way they could be in Kansas anymore was not lost on him.

John was just in the small hotel office for a couple of minutes, keeping his body and face angled towards where Dean was sitting in the truck so that he could see if Dean tried to make a break for it, but it was long enough to Dean to do a surreptitious inventory of the cab of the truck; finding nothing but a mismatched stack of fast food napkins in the glove compartment, a handful of loose change in the ashtray, and a few bent roofing nails littering the floorboards that he figured his dad had probably pulled out of the bottom of his work boots. There was nothing even remotely helpful that he could use to fight back against his dad and even then he didn't want hurt the older man, just maybe handcuff him to a radiator so that he could make a getaway that didn't involve pistols and punching.

"Grab your bag," John order gruffly through the window after rapping on it sharply to get Dean's attention. "Got us a room for a few days, just til I find us a job."

Dean nodded meekly and followed the older man towards a room that was a couple of doors down from the office, taking in as much about his surroundings as he could so that he would be able to tell someone that he was at the Starlight Motel in Not Kanas somewhere where there were a lot of woods. He was pretty sure they were in Colorado, but the pounding in his head had been making it hard to pay attention to what was going on around him and Dean was more than a little worried that a doctor might tell him there was brain damage or something once he finally made it home.

He had mopped up his face the best that he could at the first gas station they had stopped at, well aware of the fact that his father was standing right outside the door and that there was no way he could fit through the tiny window that faced the back lot that was full of truckers sleeping in the respective cabs of their vehicles. The pimpled late-night cashier at that particular Gas N' Sip had given him a scandalized look, but the woman idly popping her gum behind the front desk didn't even spare a glance their way as the two Winchesters passed her window.

Once Dean saw their room he realized it was probably because this wasn't the kind of hotel where the employees were paid extra to ask those probing questions. No, the brownish coverlets with their tell-tale stains that covered the two twin sized beds and the sagging, water-stained wallpaper did not inspire a lot of confidence in Dean. This was probably the kind of hotel where you paid by the hour and tipped the employees extra to look the other way. The kind of place where sometimes you saw things or heard things, but it was just safer and easier to stay the fuck out of it. Yea, no one was going to help him here.

"Go get cleaned up," John said with a dismissive wave towards the door that Dean figured was to the bathroom, dropping heavily onto the end of one of the beds as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "You look like shit."

Dean nodded and scurried into the tiny bathroom, taking his bag with him because if he could just get out a window or something then he could maybe hitchhike his way to a police station or back to Kansas; something his dad wouldn't probably be expecting him to do with how meek and eager to please he had been acting for the last couple of days. He hadn't even been arguing back about Cas, hadn't said a word if he could help it besides 'Yes, sir' or 'No,sir' since the first fifty miles and maybe he had finally managed to get his father to let his guard down enough that Dean could get away.

But of course in this kind of hotel there were bars on the windows, not that he would've been able to fit through it anyway. Hell, Anna probably wouldn't even have been able to fit through the tiny pane of frosted glass that was set into the wall above the shower, but it still didn't stop Dean from jiggling the bars to see if they were loose. They weren't.

"Motherfuckingshitfuckingdamnitfuck," Dean muttered, shaking the bars desperately one last time before he gave up and stepped out of the shower to lean heavily against the sink. It was then that he finally looked into a mirror for the first time since Kansas and if there was anything he could ever agree with his dad about it was that he looked like shit.

He had been able to feel the bruises forming and throbbing over the last couple of days to the point where he could barely even open his left eye while every mouthful of over-cooked gas station hot dogs had made his jaw click and the skin pull tight and hot over the cut on his cheekbone. But even then he had resisted the urge to look at his reflection in one of the truck's mirrors because if he didn't see it he could still pretend that maybe this wasn't real. That maybe all of the damage that John had done was part of some overly elaborate hunger-induced nightmare that he would wake up from to find Cas cuddled into his chest with the smell of mint wrapped around the both of them like a blanket.

But seeing his face in the sickly purplegreenyellow technicolor mass of abstract art that was reflected back at him from the mottled bathroom mirror, Dean had to admit that this was his life and it was real and maybe the only way to get back to Cas would be for more people to get hurt. The only problem was, as much as he hated his dad for well...as much as he hated John, John was still his father and he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to hurt the older man. If anyone could understand the conflicting emotions he was having over all of this shit, it would be Cas. But his boyfriend wasn't here which was the entire problem to begin with.

Dean initially turned on the shower in an effort to forestall the inevitable, just wanting to be away from his father and his looming threats that made Dean feel like he had to agree with everything the older man said. But then it quickly got muggy in the small room and his shirt started sticking to his back with sweat. And while he appreciated the fact that the condensation on the mirror was dense enough to obscure the fact that the tears of defeat and frustration were dripping steadily off of his nose and chin and into the sink it didn't mean that he hadn't first seen the days old blood still tinting his scalp a rusty brown before everything had gotten as foggy in real life as it had felt in his head over the last couple of days.

So he caved and took a quick shower, hoping that the sound of the water with its surprisingly decent water pressure hitting the dingy tile at his feet was loud enough to drown out the sobs that were wracking through him as he thought of Cas and his dad and how disgusted he was with himself for betraying the trust of the one person he had sworn never to hurt. It felt like the water would never be hot enough to blister off all of the hatred he was feeling for himself right then. And he deserved the pain anyway, even though he could barely feel it and certainly couldn't find any relief in the scalding water pouring down on his sore muscles.

He was surprised to see his dad sprawled half asleep across one of the beds when he stepped back into the main room, the older man lazily watching some fuzzy reality show in the fading light that was struggling through the dirty curtains that were covering the room's sole window. Dean was even more surprised to see a cheap plastic bucket filled with ice steadily condensatating on the scarred linoleum table near the door and much much less surprised to see a pair of handcuffs secured to the headboard of the empty bed that Dean assumed was his. It seemed his dad had been busy while Dean was in the shower. Or maybe it was some like father like son bullshit, he was just too tired to fight the fact that he seemed to be fate's bitch anymore.

"I got some ice," John mumbled sitting up from his slouch against his own headboard to stretch his arms over his head with a pained sounding groan. "Y'know for your face. Alternate hot and cold, it helps the swelling go down."

Dean nodded and dumped his bag at the foot of the empty bed, glancing warily at the handcuffs before he noticed the line for the room's phone was dangling over the edge of the nightstand between the two beds. Who even knew what John had done with it while Dean was busy feeling sorry for himself in the bathroom? He had to stop zoning out and trying to figure out a real way to get some help, especially if he ever wanted to get back home to Sammy and Cas and the rest of his real family.

"I ordered pizza, meat lover's. You still eat meat right? Haven't turned into a vegetarian or nothing over the last coupla months have you?" John asked, going towards the door where he began making a makeshift ice pack for Dean using one of the hotel's threadbare hand towels. Dean shook his head when his father glanced back over his shoulder at him and went back to looking for John's handgun or his own cell phone that the older man had taken once his father's attention was diverted again.

"Good," John grunted after a couple of seconds of Dean surreptitious investigation before turning back towards the younger man and gesturing towards the unused bed. "Y'know maybe this is good, us spending time together. Maybe that's where I messed up with all of this; I spent more time away from home than paying attention towards my own sons. Sammy's like a stranger now, but I got to you in time. You're still Dean, we can still fix all of this."

"Yea," Dean agreed quickly, his heart leaping in his throat because, _**yes**_ _._

Holy mother of god, yes. He was still Dean; the same Dean who liked action movies and football and watching NASCAR with Jo. The same Dean who had helped build the Impala from the ground up because he had fucking hero worshipped John when he was little and thought having a job where you were allowed to be dirty was just about the coolest thing ever. Being with Cas didn't change who he _was_ and Jesus, maybe his dad had realized that.

"You just gotta figure out that whatever that boy has been telling you is nonsense," John continued like he was stating the obvious and Dean felt his knees start to go once he realized that his dad hadn't changed his mind; just managed to justify his actions somehow in his alcohol atrophied brain.

"I know he's probably been filling your head with all kinds of stuff," the older man said gently, almost sounding like he understood why Dean was suddenly slumping down onto his unrumpled hotel bed; like Dean was feeling betrayed by Cas and not losing the last shred of hope he had of his father not being completely nuts. "I know you were lonely, hell I get not having a dad around and that's my fault. I will take the blame for that, but Dean, he doesn't care about you the way you think he does. They never do."

"What do you know about it?" Dean asked, his blood boiling with a sudden rage at his situation that blotted out all of the fatigue and sadness and utter horror over what what his life had become. "You met him all of one time and you were drunk. Fuck, dad. You were so focused on being pissed about Sam that you wouldn't even shake Cas's hand! You wouldn't even give him a fucking chance! He's a good person dad!"

"Yea, that little shit's a real good fucking person," John scoffed, tossing his makeshift icepack hard at Dean's chest before he dug a hand into his pocket, producing Dean's cellphone that he flipped open before dropping it down onto the faded bedspread next to his leg. "Would a good fucking person not even call to check on you? Huh, Dean? He didn't even call you, that little queer doesn't give two shits about you. So before you go getting all self-righteous maybe you should ask yourself how much he really loved you."

Dean hesitated for all of never before snatching up his phone where it had slid down to where he was making the worn out mattress dip under his weight. There was a little voicemail notification at the top of the screen and the battery was almost dead, but Dean didn't think John would let him actually make a phone call, not even to his voicemail, so he navigated to his recent call history and scrolled to his heart's content. His dad grumbled murderous sounding things under his breath as he hefted his own bag up onto his bed, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for; keeping a distrustful eye on Dean as he did so.

There was a knock on the door, which Dean assumed was the pizza being delivered because the smell of pepperoni and garlic was suddenly just _there_ , but he was too caught up in frowning at his cell phone and scrolling back and forth between his last outgoing call (the one he had made himself to the guidance counselor's office at school) and his most recent incoming call (Bobby all of an twenty six minutes ago). He was looking at the white spaces on his screen for the millions of missed calls of from Cas that seemed to have just magically disappeared.

Because surely Cas had called him to check on him. Surely the other boy hadn't just left him at John's mercy and gone about his business like nothing life-shattering had happened to the collective _they_. Dean was pretty sure that his dad was behind this some how because the older man was looking at him but not looking at him in that entirely conspicuous and telling way that only people who were guilty had; Cas's oldest brother had looked the same exact way during the entirety of his boyfriend's trial. Dean clung to that look because maybe it meant that his dad was still just that, a person who could feel guilt and realize that what he was doing was fucking crazy and his father. Not this other John Winchester who was a zealous, violent stranger; that John Winchester wouldn't take him home.

"That asshole," Dean cursed, lying through his gritted teeth to make it actually sound like he was angry at Cas instead of worried that the other boy had fallen into a coma or something. He tossed his phone down onto the floor, turning to quickly lie down on the bed so that the way he was trembling wouldn't be quite so noticeable because the thought of Cas being so hurt that he couldn't even check on him was making him physically ill.

"You have every right to be mad, son," John said comfortingly as Dean felt the bed dip slightly down by his feet. "Hell, I'd be upset too if I was in your shoes, but you've got to understand. People like that, well, the just ain't built to deal with real problems like the rest of us. They run, they avoid; it's a self-preservation thing. They're kind of like animals or parasites, they don't know any better."

Dean felt like flinching away from his father when he felt the other man's hand pat his shoulder before the jangle of the handcuffs made him look up in alarm. He watched John pick up his right wrist and attach the loose end of the handcuff to it with a resigned sort of detachment even as his father gave him a small, apologetic smile. For a moment there Dean had thought he had his father fooled.

"Just for a couple of nights, Dean," John explained, tugging on the handcuffs before jerking his head towards the box of pizza that he had placed within Dean's reach near the foot of the bed. "Eat something, you'll feel better. I'm gonna take a shower and then call around and see if I can find us some work."

"Dad?" Dean asked brokenly, blinking back the tears that were making the corners of his eyes burn with the exertion it was taking to try to keep him from spilling over. "When can we go home?"

"A few weeks away from Lawrence will do you some good," John replied, ruffling Dean's hair as he straightened back up with a pained groan and a few ominous popping sounds from his back. "Hell, it'll do both of us some good. I just gotta make some money to square up with Eve and then we'll go back, if you want. I'd understand if you need longer away from everything there, you be sure to let me know. 'Kay, son?"

"Yea," Dean managed forcing what he hoped was a grateful expression on his face as he settled his hand that was attached to the bed underneath his face. "Thanks, Dad."

"I just want what's best for you, Dean."

"I know, Dad," Dean lied...again, pressing his face closer to the pillow because yea he was crying now and his da- John wouldn't understand why. Dean had cried when he lost his mother, cried for what felt like weeks and now...now he couldn't help but muster up some tears for his father who he had lost just as surely as the mother who had left him and Sam behind.

* * *

The only thing that kept him at school until lunch was the fact that Jo had evil spies in all of his classes. Between her, Ash, Garth, and Becky, Cas couldn't even manage to go to the bathroom by himself between classes; Garth or Ash or even Adam all happened to conveniently be in there everytime he so much as thought about washing his hands. He wasn't entirely sure how Jo had managed to wrangle the sophomore into making sure he didn't cut, but he was pretty sure that the other boy was promised all kinds of mind blowing sexual favors and if so he couldn't even find it in himself to be irritated. At least Kevin wasn't following him around too.

And besides, it was Valentine's Day, he didn't want to ruin it for any of his friends.

But he couldn't just stand by and watch them go about their business like nothing was wrong; like Dean not being there wasn't just fundamentally wrong. He had caused all of this though, by not telling the truth because he wanted to protect everyone from John since he hadn't been able to protect Dean. Now he felt like he was walking along the precipice of a cliff; torn between keeping the facade in place so that someone else wouldn't go looking for Dean and end up getting hurt and begging everyone in town to help him find his boyfriend before it was too late.

It wasn't until Chuck stopped him after class though that Castiel decided cutting and asking for help probably was going to be the only thing that kept him sane. The teacher waved Becky out the door when she hesitated packing up her things and Cas didn't even bother suppressing his gratitude towards the older man when she finally relented and agreed to leave him alone for the first time all morning. Chuck was leaning up against the front of his desk with his legs crossed at his ankles and his arms casually supporting his weight as Becky left the room, holding up a hand to silence Castiel before he could speak until the door clicked shut behind her.

"Now, do you mind telling me what's going on with you?" Chuck asked without preamble as he returned his gaze back to Castiel.

The question made Cas flinch and tighten his grip on the strap of his messenger bag, the roiling sickening worry that he had been battling against all day crashing down on him along with all of the hope he had that his pretense of being fine was working on anyone at all. He knew he looked like hell, because he hadn't been able to sleep without the aid of the more than the prescribed dose of Meg's over-the-counter sleep aids and even then the bit that he did get was fraught with nightmares that were all about Dean now.

He wanted to tell Chuck everything, because it would be so very easy to drag someone, an adult, into all of this mess with him, but he also wasn't blind. The teacher was just now getting his own life under control and Cas knew better than anyone how tenuous that control could be; look how easily his own had slipped away from him.

So he tightened his jaw against all of the words he wanted to unload on someone else that they would stop drowning him and just shook his head in response to the other man's question.

"Right," Chuck said disbelievingly before he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I mean, you don't want to tell me; that's your decision and who am I to take that away from you? I just need to know if you're going to be able to handle doing your short story on your own or would you like to join one of the other groups?"

"I-I do- I do not understand," Castiel stuttered in surprise. "I mean, I'm doing the project with Dean. Dean is my group, it's our story. We're doing it together."

The teacher looked up sharply at that, fumbling his glasses back onto his face and he stood up straight from where he was perched on his desk.

"Castiel...you know." Chuck started, gesturing at the younger boy like they were sharing some secret. "If anyone knows its you, in fact Tessa is probably going to corner you and ask why he did it, but I think that's Dean's business. I mean, I've always said that he was smart, but I don't really think Dean ever believed it when I said it. Maybe I should've said it more or talked to his other teachers, but I thought they saw it too. You can't meet a kid who is that rare sort of unassumingly smart without noticing unless you're just blind. He could've been the next David Foster Wallace, hell still could be; I guess you don't need a high school diploma to be creative."

"What?" Castiel breathed in dismay, he was pretty sure he knew what Chuck was saying, but honestly it was the epitome of ridiculousness because he and Dean had _plans._

A Plan that was better than the one that the other boy had been struggling with on his own before simply because it was theirs and they were going to do it together. And yea, he hadn't factored in John when he had been daydreaming about picket fences and tire swings with Dean, but he could fix that; what he couldn't fix was Dean giving up on their plan, their life together. Them.

"Dean's dropping out," Chuck said shortly, frowning in confusion when the younger man staggered backwards into the desk behind him and made a choking sort of gasping sound that he had only ever heard the prey on nature documentaries make. "Cas...you knew, right? He had to have told you he was doing this, you're like his number one cheerleader school-wise…"

"I have to go," Castiel forced out, his hand reaching up to cover his throat as he spoke because it felt like his throat was closing up and everything that he had thought he could handle turned out to be things that he really really couldn't handle by himself and he was just so…

_Stupid, worthless, godless deviant._

"NO!" he yelled, blinking himself back into reality and out of his head where his father's voice was louder and clearer than it had been in months. Chuck's hand was on his shoulder and the older man looked startled and concerned and just the way that adults were supposed to look when you were acting strange and they cared about you. "I mean, I'm sorry. Chuck...I just really need to go. I've just...got to go."

"Castiel," the teacher called, following him out into the hallway where he fought the urge to run because he may be cutting to go get Bobby's help which he should've done days and days ago, but that didn't mean that he wasn't fairly sure Chuck wouldn't try to stop him if the teacher realized that Castiel was planning on leaving the building. "I can help you, whatever is going on with you and Dean. He's not officially out until he signs the paperwork, I can go with you to talk to him."

Castiel shook his head and made to move down the hallway that led to the cafeteria; the Impala was outside because he had refused to accept a ride from Jo or Meg to school and he had figured that it would give him and Dean an exit strategy if they needed to get away from their friends' questions about their busted lip or blackened eye. He just needed to shake Chuck and then he could go and tell Bobby everything; Bobby would know what to do.

"Okay," Chuck acquiesced softly, stopping short at the junction of the hallway where he scrubbed an agitated palm over his jawline before putting both of his hands on his hips and letting out a heavy breath. "Just...is something going on? Is Dean okay?"

"Of course he is," Castiel lied, for the last time, brushing away a tear that was stubbornly threatening to spill over. He was too tired to lie anymore, but it was going to be the only way that he could get to Bobby, so after this no more. "Why wouldn't he be?"

The older man narrowed his eyes, but nodded slowly and turned to go back towards his classroom. Castiel noticed the teacher pull his cellphone out of his pocket as he stealthily made his way towards the closest exit. Chuck's worried frown was replaced with a goofy grin that was familiar because Cas was used to seeing it on Dean's face anytime Cas said something his boyfriend thought was adorable; it was good that Chuck had someone who made that expression appear on his face.

He deserved that. And Dean deserved that and fuck this shit, Cas deserved that.

So before he was even in the Impala he was calling Bobby, because the the older man knew about the stubbornness of Winchesters; luckily Cas was a Novak and not above asking for help when circumstances got dire. And Cas was pretty sure that that things could possibly get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this update took forever to get here, but seriously guys if you think this fic is bumming you out then I'm like sunk in a Morrissey level depression over here. But I'm going to try to be better so that we can get back to the happy. Bear with me, read my other fics, we'll figure it out together. Promise. Let me know what you're thinking/how much you hate me, either way I just like hearing from you. Come see me on tumblr! [itspronounceddeathsteel](http://itspronounceddeathsteel.tumblr.com/)


	6. People Ain't No Good

He didn't exactly condone Castiel skipping school to come see him at the shop, but the boy kept insisting that whatever it was he needed to tell him wasn't something that they couldn't talk about on the phone. When Bobby saw the bruising and the busted lip on the Novak boy's face he just _knew_. It's funny how your memories sneak up on you sometimes, but seeing the other boy's eyes fill wordlessly with tears as Bobby held his chin and tilted his head towards the light was like looking at a younger version of himself trying to explain to the cops why it was really better for everyone that Edgar Singer had gotten shot during a home invasion.

"What happened?" Bobby asked gruffly, letting go of Castiel and folding his arms sternly over his chest.

"John...Mr. Winchester, he...he found Dean and I...together," the younger man stuttered out around increasingly harsh sounding breaths. "I-he and Dean are gone and Dean's not answering his phone and I...I just left him there Bobby. I left him there hurt with that psycho and now he's gone. I can't...I don't...Bobby, what if he's-"

"Alrigh'" Bobby interrupted gruffly, scooping the boy who had somehow worked himself into their makeshift family into a tight hug. "Calm down. Yer panickin' is not gonna help Dean."

Castiel managed to reign in his sobs long enough for Bobby to corral the younger man into the house, settling him on the couch in the living room before quickly going to place the 'Out For Lunch' sign in the window of the salvage yard's small shop. By the time he got back Cas was taking measured breaths with his head in his hands and the boy seemed much calmer in general.

That didn't stop the older man from pouring himself a few fingers of whiskey from a bottle of the good stuff that he kept in his desk before going to sit in his favorite armchair because Bobby had the feeling that he was definitely going to need it.

"Now tell me th' whole story, from th' beginnin', Cas. Don't leave nothin' out," Bobby said, leaning forward in his seat to hand the younger boy a bandana that he's had tucked into his pocket while he had been working on the transmission in Mrs, Bass's old Deville; it was a little grease stained, but Castiel accepted it and dutifully wiped away his tears.

And then the younger boy spoke.

Every single acid word was like a vicious hand twisting the knife of guilt that had been embedded in his chest ever since Mary left. All of this was his fault, John being crazy and Dean having to suffer for his father's sins. If he and John had never...well it was too late to fix those particular regrets, but it may not be too late to fix this before it became another one.

"Okay," Bobby said fighting to keep his voice even because all he wanted to do was shout and yell at Castiel for not coming to him sooner, but the tear-streaked expression on the boy's face was just so heart wrenchingly familiar that he could only think about keeping anyone else from getting hurt by all of this. "First things first, yer gonna talk to Sam. No arguments, Dean's his brother John's his father; he deserves to know what's goin' on."

"And then what?" Cas asked, his voice small and defeated sounding as he nodded miserably along with everything that Bobby was telling him to do.

"Then yer gonna sit tight while I drag John and Dean back here by their bootstraps to fix all this nonsense," Bobby answered with much more certainty than he actually felt.

The younger man let out a scoff of disbelief that had Bobby just lifting an eyebrow at Cas once the boy realized that he had actually made the noise out loud, his red-shot blue eyes widening in terror before he shook his head quickly.

"It's not that I don't think you can find them," his nephew's boyfriend explained quickly. "I mean if anyone understands what's going on in John's head its probably his best friend, right? I just...Dean's been fighting off John for ages so why are you so concerned all of a sudden? Why didn't you stop it before?"

Bobby let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand over his face, wishing that he had a better answer for Castiel than the real one: he'd been worrying about the wrong Winchester for so long that he didn't know how to stop. Caring too much about John was practically programmed into his DNA, but god help that miserable bastard when he caught up to him.

"It's a long story," the older man grumbled, rising to his feet and giving Cas a pat on the shoulder before moving towards the stairs so that he could pack a hasty duffel bag to take with him. Hopefully John hadn't gotten any further than the next county, but Bobby wasn't holding out too much hope; the moron had run as far as Kansas once before after all. "Maybe I'll tell ya all about it someday, if it ever starts being funny."

"I'm going to hold you to that, y'know. So when are we leaving?" Castiel asked quickly scrambling off the couch to follow him with none of the usual grace that the younger boy usually had when he moved. "I need to go home and grab some stuff, let Gabe know I'm leav-"

"Yer goin' back ta school," Bobby said sternly, rounding on the younger boy to point a finger at him as he spoke. "I'm not about to put another one of my boys' futures in jeopardy over all of this."

"But I can help you," Cas argued, waving his hands desperately when Bobby's expression remained unconvinced. "Okay, I don't know how, but I can't just stay here and wait on you to call me when you find Dean. I'm already losing it, Bobby."

"Listen if it'll make ya feel any better, I'm gonna call Sheriff Mills and let her know what's goin' on," Bobby acquiesced, the idea coming upon him suddenly when he realized that if John really was having some self-destructive bout of homophobia that maybe it wouldn't be wise for him to go traipsing off after the other man without someone knowing where he was going. Just in case he never made it back. "I'm not runnin' after them half-cocked with an itchy trigger finger, but that doesn't mean that's not what's waitin' for me when I find them. I don't need you gettin' hurt, so here's the best place for ya; there's people here to help ya keep it together."

The younger boy blanched and his voice trembled when he spoke again, " Are there? How can I ever ask Sam to forgive me, Bobby? Dean's all he's got and because of me he may be…he might..."

Bobby shook his head and looped a hand around the back of the younger man's neck in order to drag Castiel in for another hug. Fingers dug into the fabric of the worn denim work shirt that he was wearing and the younger boy let out harsh, wet sounding breaths against his chest as he fought to keep it together.

"Yer Sam's family too," Bobby offered seriously, believing it to be a fact that the young man in his arms was his family just like he knew instinctively that Dean would do whatever it took to get back to Cas because those two idiots had a bigger love than he had ever gotten to know himself. "Yer our family and he'll forgive you because I forgive you."

Castiel let out another racking sob and Bobby resigned himself to the waterworks that he had caused because the younger boy was fragile, not because he was a little misty eyed himself. No sir, not at all.

Later, once he had gotten Castiel dropped back off at his house, but before he stopped by the sheriff's department, Bobby made a phone call.

And it went straight to voice mail.

"John," Bobby began tersely, clearing his throat to combat the sudden urge that he had to fret and fuss over his oldest friend because that's just what he had always done; a stranger would think that he didn't have years of practice at being mad at John Winchester. "John, it's Bobby. I talked ta the Novak boy, Cas. He tol' me...damnit, John! If you've hurt a hair on Dean's head I swear on all that's holy...I'll kill ya myself."

He took a moment to compose himself after he angrily punched the disconnect button on his cell and shoved it deep into his pocket. That probably wasn't the most adult way to handle things, but he'd take a bullet for either of his boys; hopefully with Jodi's help it wouldn't have to come to that.

Saying that Bobby Singer was livid was like saying the sky was blue or the ocean was wet. It was obvious, a given, an inevitability of being associated with the Winchesters and he really should have stopped expecting the world to go easy on him by now. But he was upset about the situation, pissed at John for finally going too far in a vendetta that was essentially against himself, and disappointed that Castiel had made the same mistakes that he had all those years ago.

It was like seeing the past repeat itself, but being powerless to stop it. He'd been too busy being worried about what John might to do Sam to even consider the fact that Dean couldn't take care of himself. The kid had been doing it since he was too young to reach inside an engine without standing on tiptoe and Bobby had been convinced that nothing bad could ever happen to his eldest nephew.

God, he didn't think he had ever been more wrong about anything in his life.

* * *

Sam didn't know what this family meeting was about, but he had his suspicions.

Dean and Cas had been fighting all weekend or at least he thought they were since when he saw his brother's boyfriend on Monday in the hallways at school the older boy looked like he had done nothing but cry for a week. Plus Dean wasn't answering his phone, which was normal when his brother had his panties in a twist about something. He figured Dean was taking out his aggression on junkers at Bobby's or maybe Ash or Jo were commiserating with him and getting him shitfaced.

Either way, if Dean had fucked things up with Cas over something stupid, Sam was gonna be ticked. Because it was clear to everyone that Cas was the best thing that could ever happen to his idiot brother, but the serious expression on Castiel's face when he sat him and Gabriel down after dinner was not giving him much hope. They had probably broken up and he was going to have to help Dean figure out some way to fix it, on fucking Valentine's Day of all days.

But when Cas finally drew in a shaky breath and started talking, Sam had a hard time believing that all of this wasn't some sick joke. The only thing that was keeping him from flying apart into a million dagger-sharp pieces was Gabriel's hand clamped vise-like on his knee, pushing him down into the cushions of the sofa with a gentle insistent pressure as the older man's face got more and more grim.

How had he been so stupidly complacent to just let Dean deal with John alone? When had he gotten so wrapped up in Gabe that he had become blind to what was going on with the rest of his family? Why had Cas waited so long to tell them about all of this?

Sam didn't realize he had voiced that question aloud until he looked down to see Gabriel's shocked expression when he felt a sharp tug on his wrist. Apparently he had gotten to his feet and some point and started shouting, which was weird because all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel gasped, tears tracking down his face as he collapsed inward on himself in the overstuffed armchair that he was sitting in; looking small and fragile in a way that the muscled ROTC cadet hadn't ever looked to Sam. "I-I-I didn't know what else to do. I...fucked up because I was scared. I co-couldn't let you get hurt too."

"You should have let me decide if it was worth the risk, Cas!" Sam screamed, trying desperately to clutch onto his anger at the other man even as Castiel nodded contritely and wrapped his arms even tighter about his shaking frame. "Dammit! He's my fucking brother, I should've been there for him."

"Bobby's looking for him," Castiel offered weakly causing Gabriel to be up and off his feet with his cell phone pressed to his ear before Sam could so much as argue that it was a fat lot of good to have the other grumpy old man in their lives looking for John and Dean on his own. "He said he was going to get the sheriff to help him find them."

Sam scoffed disbelievingly, as far as he was concerned the only people qualified to be searching for his brother were family because they all knew how John thought; Bobby would probably be better off looking for them on his own.

"Sam," Cas practically whispered, making him falter in his pacing around the living room as he strained his ears to try to hear what Gabe was saying on the phone to Bobby out in the hallway. "I really am sorry."

"Fuck," the taller boy groaned, pushing the heels of his hands hard into his eyes before raking his fingers through his hair. "I know you are, Cas. Just...fucking let me process for a bit, okay? I just found out my brother's been kidnapped so...give me a minute before we talk feelings."

The older boy let out a pained choking sound, wiping at his face and shaking his head when Sam gave him a concerned look or at least he hoped it seemed concerned because it felt like all of the rest of his emotions were buried under layer upon layer of hurt and anger and fear. But he also didn't want Cas to have a panic attack and do something drastic, especially not so soon after the trial.

"You sound just like him," Castiel explained hollowly, looking down at his lap as he spoke. "Dean, not John."

"Never John," Sam bit out, stopping sharply when Gabriel came rushing back into the room; the two men bumping into each other as they met at the doorway. "What did Bobby say?"

"He said that John didn't turn up at the job he was supposed to be working in Eudora," Gabriel explained, looking apologetically at Cas who had let out an unconscious noise of despair at the news. "But he talked to a couple of guys who were working the same job and they said that John also picked up construction work in Topeka and Kansas City sometimes. Sheriff Mills is trying to trace some sort of paper trail, but she's not having much luck apparently."

Sam let out a derisive snort and shook his head in disgust before speaking. "Most of the jobs John did were under the table. He wasn't a licensed contractor or part of any union or anything so his foremen usually paid him cash and left it at that. I think he has like one credit card, maybe, but that one might be maxed out just like all the other ones Dean paid off before cutting up. They're not gonna find my dad checking into any five star resorts with a hostage in tow."

"Dean was…"Castiel started, his voice quaking as he spoke with one hand tucked up against his throat and the other clenched tightly onto armrest of the chair he was sitting in. He looked worse than Sam felt, split lip that made a lot more sense now and dark circles of worry under his eyes making him look like death warmed twice over. "H-he was fighting John pretty hard. I'm sure he looks way worse than I do. Wouldn't someone call the cops if they saw him out like that? Or if he asked for help?"

"You'd be surprised by how many people are lacking the good Samaritan gene," Gabriel told his brother softly, moving to sit close to the younger boy to gently pry his hand off of the chair; looking at Sam pleadingly as he continued to pace before the younger Winchester dropped heavily into the seat beside him. "We'll find him, Cassie. I promise."

Castiel nodded robotically, his face expressionless as tears began to track silently down his cheeks again. Sam felt useless because he couldn't even begin to think of how to help any of them, Gabe wasn't going to let him go after Dean himself and Bobby would kill him if he found out that he did it anyway. No, the only thing that Sam could do was wait and it was the worst kind of torture.

* * *

Gabriel made both him and Sam go to school the next day, which Castiel sort of appreciated because he knew that his older brother was just trying to keep their minds off of everything that was going on with Dean. But he mostly didn't appreciate it. Because walking the empty hallways without his boyfriend cracking silly jokes beside him or sitting in English class with an empty spot in the seat next to him instead of Dean's warm, comforting presence was just making the aching hole in his heart feel bigger and bigger.

From the glimpses that he caught of Sam towering over the rest of his classmates in the hallway that held the lockers for the juniors, it didn't look like the younger Winchester was faring any better. Sam was barely speaking to him at home, but when he did the words had finally stopped feeling like stinging rain against his skin when they fell from the younger boys lips so maybe that was an improvement.

Despite the fact that Sam had finally stopped glaring at him, Castiel still couldn't sleep, could barely eat or force himself to fake like he was okay in the face of Jo's smothering concern and Meg's unexplained irritation. It was like he could already feel Dean's looming specter haunting him and each hour that passed without the other boy's return made him more and more certain that he would never see Dean again. But he decided that he would put on a brave face, dole out smiles that he hoped didn't look as painful as they felt, and simply shrugged when everyone asked him what had happened with him and Dean.

He and Gabriel and Sam had decided that it would be best to stick with the story that Cas had already told everyone, that he and Dean had argued. It was less likely to induce a panic amongst their assortment of friends and the Sheriff had agreed with Bobby when they told her about their plan for explaining Dean's absence from school. According to her the last thing she needed was a whole slew of high school students getting in her way while she searched for a homophobic drunk and his eldest son who were probably just off doing some father-son bonding in a tent on a mountain somewhere.

As much as Castiel didn't share her optimism, the original sentiment of not wanting anyone else to get hurt because of him still lingered so he kept his mouth shut and trudged through his classes on Tuesday and Wednesday with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn't much. Bobby kept them updated regularly as he hunted down the loose assortment of Lawrence's other shady contract workers who apparently all knew each other by at least name and reputation if not personally. None of them had seen John or heard about him taking a job anywhere that they knew about.

He was exhausted from worry and felt sick with guilt every time one of his friends rallied against Dean on his behalf when their 'argument' was brought up. They were all 'on his side' and Castiel wanted desperately to tell them that they really really shouldn't be. Needless to say when Mr. Sanz stopped him at his locker at the end of school on Wednesday, the last thing that Castiel wanted was to talk to the ROTC instructor who he had been avoiding ever since he had ditched practice Monday afternoon with no explanation. He just wanted to take enough Tylenol PM to help him get rid of the near constant throb throb throbbing at the back of his skull where his head had collided with the bathroom door and maybe also force him to sleep.

"Novak," Virgil said softly as Castiel glanced up from the older man's highly polished dress shoes to meet the eyes of the first teacher who had managed to corner him since Chuck had told him about Dean dropping out. "A word, please."

"I've really got to go, Mr. Sanz," Cas began, shifting on his feet guilty as he shoved the last of his textbooks into his overstuffed backpack. "My brother is waiting for me."

"Miss another meeting I'm going to have to give you a demerit," the ex-military man cautioned, his voice carrying the order that Castiel knew the other man was reluctant to give. He was honestly surprised Virgil hadn't called him out already for missing Monday's ROTC meeting after school. "Three demerits and I'll have to ask you to turn in your uniform, cadet."

Cas's stomach twisted sourly at the thought of losing another thing that had come to mean so much to him, something that had always meant so much to him. But he was already expending so much time and energy worrying about Dean that he couldn't even begin to picture himself of falling back into his former routine of working out and running and practicing his shooting.

Before he had met the other boy those activities had been his safe haven, the ache in his muscles being one that was familiar and comforting because it meant he was still alive in spite of everything that life had already thrown at him. Without Dean it felt like he was slowly atrophying, if Bobby didn't find his boyfriend soon there may end up being nothing left of him but a dried up husk and Cas wasn't entirely certain that that wasn't exactly the fate he deserved.

"I have to go, Mr. Sanz," Cas said in reply, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the precise Eldredge knot of the teacher's tie. "My brother will be worried if I keep him waiting too long."

"Castiel," the teacher said, using his first name for maybe the second time ever as the younger man made to brush past him towards the exit. "If you ever need to talk about it or want to blow something up...well, I'll do my best to help you."

He didn't turn around to let Virgil know that he already had more help than he knew what to do with. Cas didn't tell his commanding officer that he was literally drowning in the concern and good intentions of all of his friends who thought that by being mad at Dean they were somehow making his burden lighter. The Spanish teacher didn't need to know that he had been having dreams about wrestling John's gun out of his hands and shooting his boyfriend's father or that he didn't consider those dreams nightmares.

Cas just nodded his head and cleared his throat, tossing "I'll be at the meeting on Friday, Mr. Sanz." over his shoulder before he continued towards the exit.

It was going to take some convincing to get Gabriel to let him out of his or Sam's sight, but Cas pretty desperately needed to feel like he still had some sort of grip on his life and shooting a bunch of holes into something may just be the start of that.

* * *

By Friday Dean had stopped hoping that someone was going to come for him and was only half-heartedly trying to think of a way to get away.

It's not that he didn't _want_ to get back to Cas or if Cas didn't want him after he told the other boy about Lexi, then just back to somewhere familiar. He did. In fact, he dreamed about the reunion that he and the other boy would have though the actual content of the dreams varied depending on how deeply John slept and therefore how safe he felt about sleeping himself. Most nights he fell into a fitful doze that he was snapped out of anytime he inadvertently tugged on the handcuff attached to his wrist in his sleep; John hadn't stopped doing that yet, but he had finally stopped waving his gun around every other minute, so that had to be an improvement.

His cellphone hadn't emerged again since Monday and Dean was pretty sure that it was dead by now anyway, but he could imagine the kind of frantic voice mails that his family was leaving for him. Jo was probably madder than a snake in a boot, Sam was probably pairing up with Ash to track him down via satellite triangulation or something else dorky, and Bobby was most definitely earning a few more gray hairs over this, but Dean couldn't even begin to picture how Cas was reacting to him not having returned yet.

The last the other boy had seen of him he had been about to get his face bashed in by a lamp and still...there hadn't been a peep from his boyfriend. Logically, Dean knew that Cas had to have called him, probably an obscene amount of times, and that the other boy had gone and gotten help because Cas was smart like that, but Dean still felt like Cas could and should take this opportunity to untangle himself from the mess that was the Winchesters. The other boy had just gotten his life back on track and now this? It was too much to ask any person to deal with.

Dean might have already accepted the fact that Cas wouldn't want what was left of him if he made it back to Lawrence, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't always want the other boy. If anything, all of this just made Dean even more certain that Cas was the love of his life. Hell, he'd jump in front of a gun for the other boy a thousand times over if it meant he'd be alive, even if they weren't together. He tried not to think too much about a future where he and Cas weren't together, even if it was looking more and more like that was going to be the future he ended up having.

Instead he focused on not fucking up too much at the abysmal construction job that John had managed to find for them in a rapidly growing suburb on the outskirts of Denver. He knew next to nothing about construction apart from the few bits of mechanic know-how that he could adapt to fit his current circumstances which honestly wasn't much. But at least he spoke enough Spanish to be able to ask for help from the other unlicensed workers like he and John who were working with them on the street of cookie cutter houses they were slapping together.

He'd almost worked up enough courage to ask one of the guys that they were working with to help him, but then Edgar pulled out a picture of his family during their lunch break and proceeded to tell Dean with more gestures than words about how much he loved his kids and wife. John had eyed them suspiciously from where he was eating with their sleazy foreman, Dick, and Dean had swallowed down his plea for help before he dragged someone else into the mess that was his life.

So Dean decided that he would only take the chance to get help if he found a way to do so where no one could possibly get hurt, maybe if he bumped into a couple of cops or John let his guard down enough that Dean could escape with enough of a head start to make it back to Kansas before the older man did. Lucky for him, John's new found sobriety hadn't stuck and the older man had taken to drinking himself to sleep each night; all Dean needed was one night where John forgot to cuff him to the bed and he would have his out.

It hadn't happened yet. In fact, Dean hadn't seen much of Colorado besides the sides of the roads that John drove them to and from work on and the scraggly grass that abutted their hotel that was right off of I-70. He vaguely knew that he needed to head east to get to Lawrence, but besides that he figured he would have to rely solely on kindly cashiers to give him directions back home and that's if he managed to steal John's truck when he ran. Worst comes to worst he could always hitchhike, but Dean wasn't sure how much more of himself he was prepared to give away in order to get back home.

When would he know that he had given enough?

Dean knew that most of ideas for escape were half-baked and likely to fail, which is why he hadn't followed through on any of them yet. But outside of watching John drink himself into a stupor, working, and flipping through channels on the television in their hotel room while he was chained to the bed he didn't have much else to do. Okay, that wasn't completely true. But Dean wasn't trying to draw attention to the one thing that he did have that was giving him hope, the one thing of Cas's that he had kept when John had ordered him to cleanse their apartment of all things blue-eyed and Novak shaped.

The first time he dared to pull the moleskine out of his backpack was well after John drifted off into an alcohol induced slumber, snoring thunderously enough that Dean was unconcerned when he let out a grunt of pain as he stretched his leg off of the side of the bed in order to hook his foot through the strap of his bag so that he could drag it closer. The older man had locked Dean to the bed early on Tuesday night, returning already halfway drunk with a brown bagged bottle of alcohol tucked under his arm and a mean set to his mouth.

Slanderous words that he wasn't sure were meant for him were mumbled under John's breath as he stormed into the bathroom of their small room and didn't emerge until he stumbled back to his bed next to the door and collapsed face first into it with a pained groan. Dean waited until the other man's breathing evened out and then some before retrieving Cas's journal from his backpack, skipping over the first half of the book that was filled with the familiar clear and careful cursive of his boyfriend's writing.

He didn't think he could read anything that Cas might have written about him without crying so Dean decided that he would try to distract himself by writing something, maybe try to pick up their short story from where he remembered leaving it off at. But he couldn't. He tried, snapping the tip of the pencil that he had found in his bag off in frustration from where he was pressing it hard into the journal as he willed himself to write about something, anything that wasn't just loss and pain and death.

All he could think of was how he and Cas would never be able to come back from this. That this would be the thing that ended them and how unfair it was that they had never even really gotten a chance. There was really no other way things could play out, Dean could barely stand to look at himself in the mirror so how could he expect the other boy to still love him after finding out how passively he had gone along with John's insane plan to 'fix him'?

Cas deserved so much better than him. He always had.

Unable to think of anything positive to write, Dean just wrote about all the ways he expected things to change. Not just with Cas, but with everyone. Because it _was_ all going to change, he just wouldn't get to know how much until he somehow made it back to Lawrence.

* * *

John could admit that he had made some not-so-intelligent decisions in his life. Foremost of which was probably when he had tried to forget himself in another person, but reinvention is a lot harder than it looks. Old habits die hard and there is a perverse sort of comfort in the familiar. Or that's how he had rationalized the affair that had lost him his wife all those years ago and it was how he rationalized his desperate, rambling searches for meaning that always and forever would bring him right back to the one person who couldn't stand the sight of him.

The fear and disappointment in Bobby Singer's eyes when he had looked at him over the still warm body of his father was what had driven John out of Sioux Falls and the mere sound of that same fear in the other man's voice over the phone was what drove him back to drinking; desperate to silence the small, hopeful part of him that still argued that Bobby loved him. A few drunken kisses and half-conscious fumblings under the cover of darkness couldn't even begin to fix the wounds that had festered between them for so long and what had happened at Christmas had pretty much driven home the point that Bobby was sick and tired of being sick and tired over one John Winchester.

The mechanic had told him that on no uncertain terms he was through. Through being a crutch and an enabler for someone who refused to get help, through being cursed at because he wasn't ashamed of what he was like John was, and through standing idly by while John drove his family into the ground with hatred and denial. Hearing Bobby say that he would kill him if he hurt Dean didn't scare John because part of him had been dead ever since he had pulled the trigger on Edgar Singer. That part had been rotting when he had gone out and slept with a too-sweet waitress in an effort to make himself into someone who could never kill another man.

He'd never told Mary what kind of man she was climbing into bed with night after night, even when it became just about sleeping and closeness and comfort when Bobby came to Lawrence and opened up the salvage yard and John jumped at his first chance to stray. Dean hadn't even been a year old yet and it wasn't supposed to have happened more than once, but he was like an addict. Looking for kisses that bruised and hands that pushed and moved him where they wanted him to be, flesh that was hard and rough that could take all of his anger instead of soft and yielding like Mary's was.

It wasn't supposed to ruin his life and go on for years until Bobby suddenly said he couldn't anymore. Stupid, self-righteous, wonderful bastard. And just like that John had been abandoned again, torn open and road hauled until his insides were so mixed up with his outsides that even Mary told him she knew something was wrong, known the whole time in fact and been fine with it because she was just happy being a mother even if her family was a bit unconventional.

That's probably about the time John started hating her, which was a whole new emotion despite the fact that he'd been practicing hating himself for years.

John thought all of this as they worked on Friday morning, glancing over at his son who was holding up a piece of dry-wall for one of the other workers to nail into place. He didn't trust the little faggot, but he wasn't entirely sure that he hated him either. Dean had lied to him for months about that Novak boy; at least Sam had the balls to come out and say that he liked sucking dick, John could almost respect that even if it did make him see green with envy at times.

Sam was just so like Mary, had so much of his wife in him that sometimes John wasn't even sure if the boy was his, but Dean...that one was completely his fault. He'd let the boys have too much freedom, been too focused on being less of a monster that he'd forgotten to be a parent and it had turned them both into exactly what he had been running from for as long as he could remember.

Dean was trying to make it right though, which was more than Sam could say. That little ingrate didn't care what people were saying about him and by proxy John all over town, didn't care that he had to hear about his youngest boy being seen all over town with that cradle-robbing criminal and Jodi Mills turning a blind eye to the whole damn thing. Hell, John couldn't take a drink in Lawrence without that harpie being all over his ass for it, but candy toting pedophiles could trick sixteen year old boys into living with them without any repercussions.

One thing was for damn certain, John was going to make sure that things changed once he and Dean got done with this job. Maybe Eve could pull some strings with the city council and get that bitch Mills fired, she had connections after all. How else do you keep a brothel open for that long in a god-fearin' city like Lawrence without greasing a few palms?

* * *

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," Lexi admitted to the mirror, batting Ambyr's hand away from her bedraggled looking ponytail when the blonde clucked her tongue at her and reached out to fix it.

"You say that like you have a choice," Abbie replied, her mouth open in a wide 'O' as she fixed the edges of her bright red lipstick with the tip of her fingernail. "You've got a contract, same as the rest of us. Think any of us get to just quit whenever we feel like it?"

"Whatever, Abs," Lexi bit out, snatching up the concealer off of the scarred laminate counter top in front of her that housed the collection of Eden's employees' assorted beauty products. "Don't act like you hate getting plugged by the mayor once a week."

"I like power," the redhead said, pursing her lips at her reflection before she winked at Lexi and Ambyr and made her way towards the tiny room's doorway. "Maybe if I rub up on power enough some of it will rub off on me."

Lexi made a face as her co-worker sashayed out of the room, her hips already swaying dangerously and seductively in that trademarked way that made Abbie one of Eve's top earners. Hell, she brought home more in tips and presents from her regulars than the rest of them combined. She turned back to her reflection with a sigh, prodding at the dark circles under her eyes with the concealer in a half-hearted effort to cover up the stress that was showing so clearly on her face.

As predicted Eve had sent her home with one of her monosyllabic goons after all of that shit went down with that kid and his crazy as hell father. Lexi wasn't stupid enough to go running to the cops about it, which Eve said she knew, Roy was just going home with her for a few days to 'keep her safe'. Pssssh, yea right. She'd be safer with a pack of rabid wolves guarding her.

"Don't try to run," Ambyr cautioned softly causing Lexi to look up to see the other woman's reflection vacantly watching her in the mirror's reflection. The blonde reached up a hand to unconsciously run the tips of her fingers over the scars that laced almost unseen across her throat, her other hand softly petting Lexi's ponytail in an absentminded sort of way. "It'll be worse if you do."

"I won't, honey," Lexi promised, smiling shakily at the other woman before she moved a hand to pull the rubber band holding her long brown hair out; fidgeting with the dark locks until they looked at least somewhat appealing under the ugly fluorescent lights, she knew it wouldn't matter in the low lighting of Eden's main club floor anyway. "Now, c'mon. Isn't that guy Ed supposed to come and see you today?"

The blonde perked up a little bit, smiling softly at the mention of one of her regulars who was kind and silly and so far hadn't asked for anything other than a hand to hold and someone to talk to. Lexi wasn't about to rain on Ambyr's parade by telling her that they all became johns eventually, even the gentle ones.

"Yea, and you have that Brian guy scheduled right?"

"Yea, but his name's not Brian," Lexi corrected, her mind automatically jumping to her mental countdown of how long she had to wait until the next visit from the doctor that Eve scheduled for the girls. Not much longer...maybe she could get out without having to run. "He goes by Benny, it's kind of adorable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long to update, GISHWHES and life and everything got in the way. Also, sorry for the POV being sort of all over the place I hope it's not super confusing. That being said thanks to everyone who has stuck with this fic despite the sporadic updates, let me know what you think and if you read any of my other fics let me know what you'd like for me to update next.
> 
> As always you are all welcome to chat fandom or music or really anything with me over on my tumblr. *hearteyes*


	7. Breakin' into Churches

On Friday, three seemingly unrelated things happened to Castiel: he failed his first dress inspection ever, he called Rachel and got a solid twenty minutes of unbilled therapy, and he went to church for mass.

The first happened right after school during ROTC practice, when he showed up in his wrinkled uniform that had been sitting at the bottom of his dirty clothes hamper since the last time he had worn it to a meeting. He'd been meaning to wash and iron it ever since Virgil had confronted him about missing the meetings on Monday and Wednesday, but then all he wanted to do when he was at home was curl up on the couch with one of Dean's old t-shirts on and his phone and fall asleep while watching Gilmore Girls reruns with Anna.

Thursday he had felt like he was slogging through waist deep water as soon as he got out of bed and come Friday he couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten let alone thought about dressing out in his uniform until he saw a reminder text from Gilda on his phone.

Cas knew that Gabriel was starting to get worried, especially since he had turned down going to the diner when the older man proposed it. The restaurant may have his favorite bacon, mushroom burger and the comforting, motherly presence of Barb, but it also had too many memories of the times that he and Dean had spent there associated with it too and it was quickly getting to the point that any reminder of the other man was enough to send him into an uncontrollable panic attack.

The first one had happened on Wednesday afternoon when Sam insisted they stop by the apartment to check whether or not his father and brother had been there since the younger boy had sweet talked his way into getting a new key from the landlord on Monday and seen first hand the aftermath of the destruction that John had caused. Cas hadn't been there for that, knowing it would be to hard to see bloodstains on the carpet or the empty spaces where all of his own stuff used to be stored next to Dean's before his boyfriend had just left it bundled up in trash bags in the apartment's hallway.

No, he'd stayed at the house and waited for Anna to get home from school, staring blankly at some home improvement show that Gabe had turned on and clutching his phone in his hand in the hopes that maybe Dean would call him; maybe Dean wasn't lost to him forever. But on Wednesday after Gabe had picked he, Anna, and Sam up from school, Cas had honestly thought he could handle sitting in the car while Sam and his brother ducked inside to see if anyone had been in the apartment over the last couple of days.

Then Gabe had trailed out of the building behind Sam who was clutching a stack of mail to his chest and given Cas a sad head shake. No, Dean wasn't there, hadn't been there; might never be there ever again. And Sam...well, that was what caused the panic attack because for the first time since all of this had started the younger boy was crying; his large frame shaking with silent sobs in the front seat of the car all the way back to the house as he clung to the mail that he had picked up from the apartment like it was the one thing that was going to save all of them from the mess that Cas had created.

He managed to stave off the sinking blackness that always accompanied his attacks until they had made it home and he had stumbled up to his bedroom, collapsing on the floor as soon as he had shut the door because his knees had just given up the ghost. Cas could distantly hear his brother comforting Sam as the two walked past his room towards their own, but his harsh breaths were loud enough that he couldn't exactly make out what they were saying.

Shutting his eyes and trying to imagine that Dean was there calming him didn't help because it just reminded him of everything he had lost and trying to count his breaths didn't work because they were coming too fast and the phantom voices of John bellowing at him for being a faggot and his own father cursing his unholy inclinations were making it hard to keep track of where each one began and ended.

But if he didn't calm down he was going to pass out and he knew that from experience, so he half-crawled, half-stumbled his way over to one of Dean's flannel over shirts that had been casually thrown over the back of his desk chair and pulled it down onto the floor with him. He fumbled with the fabric until he had it spread out over his lap so that he was looking at the outside and nodded to himself in an effort to convince himself that this would work, it had to work.

"O-one," he stuttered out on a gasping exhale, tracing one of the boxes of blue that made of the majority of the pattern with the tip of his finger before moving onto the next and the next; counting each one until his breathing had slowed down to a more sedate speed.

A sharp rap on his door brought him out of the reverie that he fell into to staring at the fabric and remembering all the times he had teased Dean about the Winchesters' obsession with flannel and Cas looked up in enough time to see Sam fiddling with a letter in his doorway, the younger boy's eyes red and face blotchy from crying. Which he hadn't exactly been feeling better, but seeing a reminder of all of the pain he had caused just made his chest clench hard one more time before he took in a deep breath and got it back under control.

"Um, I thought you could hold on to this," Sam said lowly, waving the letter in his hand absently before reaching out and carefully setting it on the foot of his bed. "Its um, Dean's SAT scores. They were in the mail today and I know you two wanted to open them together so…"

"Thanks, Sam," Castiel whispered earnestly, his heart breaking just a little from the way the other boy just nodded and rapped his knuckles on the door frame before wandering off; Sam was so like Dean in everything he did and he didn't even realize it.

He didn't touch the letter for hours, choosing instead to take a shower and then wander down to dinner so that he could make Gabriel happy by poking at his food before finally returning to his room and resolutely ignoring the envelope on his bed for another two hours while he did his homework. It was only when he went to bed that he finally moved it, but only to his nightstand so that he wouldn't put it on the mess that was his desk and lose it.

And then he didn't sleep because he was too afraid to take his eyes off of it because somewhere in his brain he felt like if he lost this letter then he had he would truly lose Dean. Dean had to come back for something, if not for him, for them, then for the letter. He was sure of it.

So it really wasn't any wonder that he showed up to school on Friday in his wrinkled dress uniform, missing his tie and his stripes, but sporting dark circles under eyes and a glare that was just disinterested and standoffish enough that no one besides his close circle of friends approached him all day.

"I can't believe what a baby he's being," Jo pondered aloud during study hall, their table empty except for her and Cas since as far as she knew, Dean was ditching school because of their fight. "Like seriously, first you take a week off to go play knight in shining denim in a whole 'nother state for your boyfriend and then you pick a fight with the same boyfriend and decide it's a good idea to never go back to school? He's going to get kicked out if he doesn't stop fucking around."

Cas made a noncommittal noise that was really more of a sigh and hoped that maybe Jo would just drop the subject of Dean's absence already, but he knew that she probably wouldn't. Each day that Dean didn't show up to school she was getting progressively more and more pissed off at the other boy for not having the balls to make up with his man already, her words. Also she was getting more creative in her attempts to contact Dean so that she could give him her opinion on the whole matter, already having called him almost as much as Cas had and then calling Bobby who just didn't answer his phone either before attempting to hunt down Sam who Cas had seen actively hiding behind Gilda in an effort to avoid the other girl.

Apparently everyone who was in the know about what was actually going on with Dean was employing the avoidance tactic when it came to Jo, but Cas had no way to do the same since he had multiple classes with her and she was like the pack mom of their group. It was in her nature to want to fix all of their problems for them, whether because her personality was just that aggressive or she had some compulsive need to have order in her life Cas wasn't sure but he didn't know how much longer he could keep lying to her without snapping.

"Well I'm going over to his place today to give him a piece of my mind," Jo continued, bolstered by the 'hmmm' Castiel had given her in lieu of a real response. "And if he's not there then I'm going to Bobby's to drag him away from whatever junker he's buried himself under so that you two can sort this shit out."

"What if we can't, Jo?" Cas replied softly, his voice cracking from disuse before he cleared his throat and continued in a tired, defeated tone. "What if he can't forgive me?"

"I highly doubt you're the one who should be begging for forgiveness," Jo said with a dismissive wave, flicking her hair over her shoulder before she went back to conjugating French verbs in her spiral notebook. "Dean's little habit of sabotaging anything good in his life is getting old and frankly, he needs to get over himself. You shouldn't be worried about whether or not he'll forgive you, he should be worried about whether or not you'll take his sorry monoga-phobe ass back."

"Monoga-phobe?" Cas asked frowning down at his own conjugations for the same homework that looked nothing like Jo's, he knew that he had been distracted during class but he didn't know that he had been that distracted.

"Yea, Dean's been self-sabotaging his relationships for as long as I can remember," Jo explained with a snort of derision. "And I'm so over it. He's scared of monogamy and he's going to lose the one person who actively wants to deal with that if he's not careful. Seriously Cas, if he weren't practically my brother than I would tell you that you could do so much better. Hell, if you weren't gay I'd date you myself."

"So how's Adam?" he asked, attempting to make it into a joke since he knew that Jo's boyfriend is fine; the sophomore sat with them everyday at lunch and though he hasn't really been paying attention to what's been going on around him since he's been so lost in worrying about Dean, he at least knew that Adam had been there.

Jo's heavy sigh made him actually look up from where he was scribbling out all of his incorrect answers on his homework to see his friend pushing an agitated hand through her hair and just shaking her head.

"He's...its been a weird week," Jo said quickly, waving her hand after she said it and perking back up to smile at him though it seemed pretty forced from where Castiel was sitting. "But, anyway. Are you gonna come with me to Dean's tonight? You can wait in the truck while I talk some sense into him if you want, so you don't have to see him right away."

"I've got ROTC," Cas said, his stomach squirming guiltily as he said it because he knew that Jo was wasting her time going to the apartment; it didn't look like Dean or anyone had stepped foot into the home all week according to Gabe and he doubted that his boyfriend had come back since the day before when his brother had gone with Sam to check. "But uh...if you're already over there stop by Meg's, she's been calling me about wedding stuff and I just don't have time for it this week. Still catching up on homework from being gone, y'know."

It was a lie, all of it it except for the ROTC part. Meg hadn't been calling him about the wedding, but she's texted him once or twice about all his stuff from Dean's apartment that he had just left there asking if he wanted her to bring it to him. And he's been ahead on his homework since before going to Chicago for the trial, hell he was ahead in pretty much all of his classes without even trying.

"Okay, yea," Jo agreed easily, shrugging because she didn't know how much of a deceitful fucking snake Cas was. "But if Dean's home I'm dragging him over there with me to punish him, plus your tuxes are going to need to match so he'll need to know what color Meg picked for all of us to wear."

Castiel just nodded, feeling nauseous from all of his lies and scared to open his mouth lest any more come out so he just hmm'd along as Jo continued to chatter about the little bit of wedding planning Meg had already done, spring break, prom, graduation; pretty much anything besides their respective boyfriends. Which Cas was fine with even though it made his heart ache just a bit, it was really fine. Really.

That dull throbbing sensation stayed with him through the rest of the day, spiking sharply enough to make him clutch at his chest in pain or suck in a sharp breath anytime he heard one of his friends say Dean's name, but he managed to pass it off as coughing or being tired when Ash or Becky would shoot him a concerned look. Everyone else seemed oblivious of his strange behavior, after all he had been acting like this all week so it was quickly getting to the point where his silence and brooding wasn't uncommon anymore.

By the time ROTC rolled around Cas had a tension headache making his eyes feel like they were throbbing and he was achy all over from the nervous clenching of his muscles everytime he stepped into the loud, overcrowded hallway. He'd never noticed how chaotic school was before or maybe he had and having Dean walking through the corridors with him had helped him ignore the shrill chatter of the girls and the raucous rough housing of Alistair and all the guys on the football team; either way having to push down his fight or flight mechanism all week was wearing him thin, constant vigilance was tiring.

He wearily slumped into Virgil's classroom at the end of the day, hoping that the ROTC meeting would be as quick and as painless as possible because he wasn't prepared for it in the slightest. Cas hefted his messenger bag onto his usual desk and tried to arrange himself so that the wrinkles on his uniform would appear less prominent. He was hoping that maybe Virgil would give him a pass for missing pieces of his uniform or wondering if he buttoned up his jacket then the fact that is tie was missing wouldn't be noticed. Hell he'd skipped dress inspection before to go make out with his boyfriend who had just given him his first blowjob and the older man hadn't even said anything to him about it on Monday so he highly doubted that his squad leader would say something to him now.

"Cadets, on your feet for inspection," Virgil ordered, sweeping into the room in his own Marine dress uniform that he wore to show solidarity with the cadets who had to dress out every Friday. "Parade rest will do."

Castiel managed to clamber to his feet and get his hands tucked behind his back with no issues, but try as he might he couldn't lift his head up so his eyes were focused forward and his posture was straight; it just felt so heavy and staring at Virgil's own dress shoes that were polished to a mirror like shine was just easier. He wondered idly if the older man rubbed canola oil on them before he left the house, but then shook his head to clear the thought because that was just silly; oil would make the shoes all slippy.

""Novak!" the older man barked, causing Castiel to jump and finally look up from where he had started admiring the crease in Kevin's dress slacks because damn, he could use a whole can of starch and never get his creases that sharp. "Are we boring you, cadet?"

"No," Cas replied, his limbs moving jerkily to get into the proper position for parade rest; feet planted shoulder width apart, hands behind the back, shoulders back, eyes straight, chin up-

"No, what?" Virgil asked, his voice getting softer and more firm as he crossed the room from where he had been checking Adam's uniform.

The older man had never been big on the whole yelling thing that most drill sergeants bought into, pulling out that particular cliche only when he needed to get someone's attention during their workouts on Wednesdays or at games when the rifle team was getting ready to go onto the field. But he was big on respect, in fact the ROTC had done a whole section on the hierarchy of the military and why respect was important to every rank and branch therein; as soon as Castiel heard the 'what' leave Virgil's lips he knew he had royally fucked up.

"No, sir, squad leader, sir," he answered, trying force his trembling hands to stop shaking behind his back; he wasn't scared, really.

He just wasn't used to not having it together, even when he had been a mess at the beginning of the school year he had still managed to hide the fact that he was a nervous wreck most of the time. The only person who had been able to see through the mask of indifference then was Dean who had just blown through every overly-defensive wall be had built like they hadn't existed in the first place and now he didn't know how to build them back up. He needed those walls to keep him sane and they weren't fucking there!

"Better," Virgil said in an impatient, clipped tone; clicking his heels together sharply as he stopped in front of Castiel and gave his uniform a slow once over from head to toe. "Now, since you have my attention…"

Cas felt like he could physically feel the other man's eyes narrowing on the blank span of fabric where his stripes were supposed to go and his open collar that had felt weird and suffocating without his tie; he blew out a slow breath through his nose and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting a million excuses about why he was so obviously falling apart. Surely if anyone would be able to pick out the truth about Dean by just looking at the dark circles under his eyes or the wrinkles in his uniform jacket, it would the sharp-eyed ex-Marine in front of him and Cas wasn't sure if he could handle everyone knowing how much he had fucked up just yet. He could take them hating him once his boyfriend was home and safe, then he would have at least one ally.

"Jesús Cristo. Just sit down, Castiel," Virgil muttered with a sigh, lifting a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a second before taking a wide step over to Kevin who was standing with perfect posture in the aisle next to Castiel. "Tran, nice creases. Tell your mother to lighten up on the starch though."

"YES, SIR!" Kevin shouted, his cheeks flushing from the older man's comment and giving him away causing Cas to grin genuinely for the first time all week.

The expression felt wrong on his face just seconds later and Castiel slumped low in his seat once he remembered that he had no right to smile about anything while Dean was still missing. He managed to at least feign attention as Virgil kept going around the room, pausing to straighten another cadet's tie before giving her the nod of approval and muttering to one stricken looking Freshman about how he needed to take extra care to not walk in puddles while wearing his dress shoes, but honestly his head was in the same place that his heart was and he was seriously wondering why he had bothered showing up to the meeting at all.

"At ease, cadets," Virgil announced, waving to room at large as he moved to take his usual spot at the front of the room, rocking on the balls of his feet slightly as he stopped and put his own hands behind his back. "Now as I told you on Wednesday, today's meeting will be short due to another appointment I have, but the dress inspections are improving. I expect by spring break you will all actually look like a cohesive squad. For today though you can all turn in your assignments regarding combat survival skills and then you're dismissed."

A round of 'Yes, sir's sounded from various areas in the room and a few of the more enthusiastic cadets, Gilda and Adam included, snapped off salutes when they handed their homework to Virgil before leaving the room. Castiel however, was a bit slow on the uptake and before he knew it the room empty and he was he was left blinking dumbly through the fog of exhaustion as he tried to work out why Virgil had insisted that he even come to this stupid meeting if it was going to be over in five seconds anyway. With a sigh he gathered his bag and made to dig his cell phone out of his pocket so that he could call Gabe to come and get him.

"Castiel, stay for a moment," the teacher commanded without inflection, staring down at the stack of assignments that had been handed in to him as he made his way around his desk to sit down.

Cas hesitated, unsure if he was about to be reprimanded for his utter inability to turn out for a dress inspection when explicitly asked to but frankly terrified about whatever it was that Virgil was about to say to him. Maybe he was going to tell him he was an embarrassment to his stripes and kick him out of the ROTC. Maybe he was going to tell him he knew it why Dean was gone and blame him for making his volunteer grader drop out of school. Maybe he was…

"I need you to come to the meeting early next Monday to help me prepare a gun maintenance demonstration," Virgil explained, sliding the papers in his hand into a expanding file folder that he then put neatly into his soft-sided leather briefcase. "I've already spoken with your last period teacher and they are fine with you leaving class half an hour early to assist me."

"Oh-okay," Castiel stuttered out, rubbing his forehead in confusion because this felt a little like a reward. He liked cleaning guns, but he'd been the worst example of a ROTC cadet lately; hell he'd been the worst example of a human being lately, he definitely didn't deserve a reward. "But…"

"But what, Novak?" Virgil asked raising a dark eyebrow before he stood up and began gathering his things like he was getting ready to go home.

"Shouldn't I be being punished or something?" Cas asked with a shrug because he felt like he should be, kinda already felt like he was being, and certainly knew that if a punishment hadn't already come than it was just going to be a matter of time. "I mean I missed like two weeks worth of meetings and you had to hunt me down so that I would come to this one at all and I totally freaking blew this dress inspection-"

"Cadet," the older man said in a voice that caused Castiel to instinctively straighten his spine so that even though his uniform was rumpled his posture would be something that his superior officer wouldn't find fault in. "If I thought that you could stay on your feet long enough to run a mile or two, that's what you'd be doing. But you look terrible and the kindest thing that I can do for you right now is send you home to get some rest."

"No," Cas replied shaking his head because he could feel the panic attack coming on. His vision narrowing until all he could see was the assignment for Virgil's Spanish class that Dean was supposed to be in but wasn't because of him and his breath coming in increasingly desperate gasps because his chest just would fucking expand to let him take a deeper breath. "I need...you need.. push-ups, jumping jacks, squat thrusts! I need you to make me do something to fix this."

"There's nothing to fix, Novak," Virgil said in what he probably thought was a really soothing voice; giving Castiel a firm squeeze on his shoulder that didn't help settle the buzzing turmoil going on in his head. "You're going through a rough time and I can empathize. The teen years are hard for everyone, now if you'll excuse me I have papers to grade. I'll see you on Monday."

He nodded, he supposed, but Cas couldn't really be sure of much of anything because as soon as he heard the door to Virgil's classroom click shut behind the teacher he left himself sink to the floor next to one of the desks; pushing the heels of his palms hard into his eyes in the hopes that the burst of pain would snap him out of the oncoming panic attack before he was too lost in it to do anything other but ride it out.

Logically Cas knew he should call Gabe immediately, spill about having panic attacks again, and beg for the other man to come and get him so he could go be sedated or something at a hospital until this was over. But the illogical part of him didn't want his brother to worry any more about him than he already was and when he reached for his phone to scramble madly through his contacts list, Cas's eyes landed on his therapist's number instead of Gabriel's.

Okay, Rachel wasn't technically his therapist anymore; not really. She had served her purpose by proving that all of his past insanity had been caused by his father and they had decided together that his final session with her before the trial would kinda sorta be his last, but he he still had her number and it was her job to help people and he was fucking people, okay?

By the time his call was picked up by Rachel's receptionist he barely had enough breath left in his lungs to stammer out his name and when he heard the familiar voice of the only person in his life besides Dean that he had ever opened up completely to in his ear all he could do was sob brokenly from where he was curled up in the fetal position on the chilly tile floor.

"Castiel?" Rachel's voice called to him through the phone, sounding too distant and too close all at once so that his only response was to wince away from the noise. "Cas, honey. I need you to talk to me, breathe and then talk to me."

"Can't. Breathe," He panted in reply, his stomach convulsing suddenly in a way that caused Castiel to hope against hope that there was a trash can nearby.

"Okay, breathe in now as deep as you can and hold it," Rachel instructed matter-of-factly and Cas felt like he really had no choice but to do exactly what he was told. "One, two, three. Release it slowly and then take another deep breath."

The first couple of breaths were ragged gasping things and he couldn't hold them for nearly as long as he normally would've been able to, barely as long as Rachel was trying to get him to, and his mind kept screaming out at him to take in more oxygen this wasn't enough he was going to die and never be able to tell Dean that he loved him ever again.

But after a couple of minutes it started to get easier to hear Rachel over his own pulse that was thundering in his ears and his muscles that had been vibrating with every nerve ending in his body screaming that he needed to Fight! No, Flight! No FIGHTflightfightflightfig-stopped twitching. His sobs quieted and turned into just tears that felt hot and caustic as they ran sideways across his face and dripped off his nose onto the tile floor, he wished they would burn through his skin and scar him so that he would be just as flawed and ugly on the outside as he was on the inside; like those brightly colored poisonous frogs in the Amazon, it would warn others away for their own good.

"Castiel, honey?" Rachel's voice asked from his phone, reminding him that it was there at all, pressed between his cheek and his hand against the floor. "Cas, are you still there? Where are you, are you in danger?"

"No," he managed to whimper softly in reply, curling tighter into himself because he had just realized how cold the floor was, but he wasn't sure if he could stand up just yet without falling right back over so on the floor he stayed. "I'm fine."

"You sound anything but fine," the therapist declared, not scoffing at him exactly, but Castiel could readily imagine the way the other woman's lips thinned when she was displeased that he wouldn't share with her. "I'm patient, Castiel. I can wait right here until you're ready to talk to me."

And he knew that of course, she had waited him out once before and he knew that she was more than capable of doing it again. Only now their relationship was different and he wasn't being silent in an effort to spite her, just until he stopped crying and got his breath back so that he could apologize for bothering her. Because he couldn't tell yet another person how he had failed Dean, he couldn't take seeing the judgment in anyone else's eyes for how he had handled everything; it was just another reason on top of many reasons why he had yet to tell his friends everything.

"Castiel, talk to me," Rachel said after a couple more minutes where the silence was only broken by Castiel's sniffles and the random, soft errant sobs that he just couldn't seem to stifle completely. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I-I can't," Cas managed to choke out, biting his lip hard as soon as he said it in order to hold back all the other words that wanted to come tumbling out.

"Okay," Rachel replied undeterred and Castiel could almost picture the serene way that she used to fold her hands on her desk when she was humoring him. "You don't have to tell me why you called me in the middle of a panic attack, just talk to me. Tell me whatever you want, Castiel. I'm just here to listen; I always will be."

"B-but, you're not my therapist anymore," Castiel stuttered, sucking in a breath that felt like a rusty knife slicing into his chest. "I shouldn't have bothered you. I-I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Castiel," Rachel said, her tone taking on a softer lilt that reminded Cas of someone trying to appease a hysterical child. Fuck, maybe that's exactly what he was. "I would never have given you my personal number if I didn't want you to use it. In case you didn't know, that's not typical behavior for a therapist."

He managed a weak laugh at that, mostly because it felt like what Rachel wanted him to do, but it still sounded broken and slightly manic at least to him. Hopefully, the therapist wouldn't notice how cracked he had gotten in just the short week since she had last seen him at the trial in Chicago, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

"Talk to me, Cas," the woman said soothingly through the phone and after a few more endless seconds Castiel did.

It wasn't anything important because he knew that if he told her about what had happened with John she would insist on going to the police which would just be a waste of her time because Bobby had already talked to Sheriff Mills and nothing more could be done until the older man found Dean and John; it was kinda hard to put someone in jail when you couldn't fucking find them.

So he stuck to mundane stuff, like school and the fact that he hadn't finished any of his college applications yet because surely that was all stressful enough by itself to trigger a panic attack. At least he hoped that it would be enough to appease Rachel's seemingly unending supply of incredulity. He didn't even realize that his method of avoiding talking about what was really bothering him had given him away until he finished and of course then all Rachel had to say was-

"And how are you and Dean doing? I saw him at the trial, he seemed very supportive of you and your family. What are his college plans?"

Cas floundered, letting his mouth gape for a long moment before he snapped it shut and cleared the misery out of his throat. Honestly, he had no idea what Dean wanted to do with their future anymore or if the future was even 'theirs'; something they would share together. Especially since he was pretty sure he saw the tattered spiral notebook that he and Dean had used once upon a time to pass notes to each other stuffed in amongst all the other things that his boyfriend had left abandoned in the hallway outside his apartment and he knew that's where Dean's half finished applications for University of Kansas and Kansas State were.

So he lied. Through his fucking teeth.

"We want to go somewhere together, but since I don't know where that is for me its not really fair of me to hold him back. I wanted to be an engineer because that's what my father wanted and now...I just don't know. But Dean's so smart, Rachel, and so creative. He can do anything he wants to do and I have no idea where to even start."

Okay, maybe it wasn't all lies.

"Well maybe start some place you feel safe," the therapist recommended in a mild tone. "Go somewhere on your own and clear your head for a little bit. Let your brain learn how to breathe again. You've been in survival mode for so long, that your mind is panicking over having to make easy decisions. Give it a little time and you'll probably find that deep down you know what path is right for you."

Castiel hummed in acknowledgment because actually, it wasn't a half bad piece of advice considering that he hadn't really told Rachel what had triggered his panic attack. All he had been doing since John finding him and Dean together was hide out at his house; too afraid to leave in case he miss Bobby calling to tell him he'd found the missing Winchesters. Even going to school for the last week had been borderline torture, but he hadn't been able to talk Gabriel into letting him stay holed up in the disgusting nest of sweaty blankets that his bed had become.

Maybe he just needed to get out of his own head for a little bit and get some perspective on well...not just what was going on with Dean and John, but his whole fucking life.

"I think I might do that," Cas said after debating the issue to himself for a moment, nodding as if Rachel could see him through the phone. "I've kinda been a shut in since I got back from Chicago."

"I knew it," Rachel replied sounding slightly smug in a way that was totally not professional or therapeutic in the slightest, but it was still comforting even if the other woman really knew nothing. "Take a 'me day', Castiel. And then maybe make that handsome guy of yours take you out somewhere nice this weekend so you two can talk about your future; just don't stress about the things that are out of your control."

"I'll try," the boy promised, shifting his phone to cradle it between his shoulder and ear so that he could start to slowly pull himself to his feet using the desk closest to him. "And thanks, Rachel. For talking to me, you didn't have to I know."

"You can call me anytime, Castiel," she said, ignoring his apology altogether which kind of made him feel like less of a burden in a weird roundabout sort of way. "Call me at home if you need to. I consider you a friend and wouldn't mind hearing an update about where your life is going every now and then. And if you or Dean need a recommendation letter to help pad out your college applications, let me know. I have friends at both KSU and U of K and I promise that all the other seniors aren't above calling in favors to get a foot in the door."

"I think we'll be fine," Cas replied, grasping on to the thin sliver of hope that the other woman had given him and holding onto it with as much strength as his overwrought mind could manage.

"I have no doubt," Rachel agreed readily, causing Castiel to crack a small, genuine smile in response as he gathered his bag and hefted it onto his shoulder; only wincing slightly when it caused his fear stiffened muscles to protest. "Now go try to enjoy your weekend, dear. You deserve it."

He mumbled something that he hoped sounded like an agreement because he really really did not deserve to enjoy his weekend, but he didn't want Rachel to think he wasn't grateful that she had taken the time away from her real clients to speak with him. Cas only knew that he promised to call her if he needed her again and to send her an invitation to his and Dean's graduation, but really his mind was racing with all of the places where he could go and finally feel safe like he hadn't been able to since Dean had disappeared.

He felt safe at home, but Gabe had already pointed out that his refusal to leave the quickly fading smells of his boyfriend that still lingered in his bedclothes was starting to become a problem. And the diner was a no, because what if Barb asked him about Dean? Hiding and lying from his friends at school was already hard enough and Cas wasn't sure how much longer he could go on being dishonest with everyone who had been nothing but supportive of him since his first day at Lawrence High.

That left the park which he had been avoiding because he wasn't sure if he could pass the bench where he and Dean used to stargaze after movie night without having a literal breakdown and the Impala which had been sitting in Bobby's driveway since the older man had headed off to find Dean and John. Going to lurk in the car probably wasn't the best idea either, since Jody had been having her deputies patrol past the salvage yard just in case Dean turned up there and it wouldn't help anyone if Cas got arrested for trespassing. Plus their relationship had seen so many turning points in that car and fuck, it was so dumb to get sentimental over a giant hunk of metal but he could already feel tears welling up in his eyes as he thought of using the Impala as his place of refuge.

All of his safe places held memories of Dean because that's who had made him feel like he could be safe again after everything that had happened with his father. Dean had been the one to show him that it was okay to be exactly who he was and that his feelings were valid even if no one else understood them. Part of him realized that he was just acting pathetic and weak, but another, larger part screamed that it wasn't pathetic that he hadn't felt whole since Dean had disappeared; without Dean he wasn't. It felt like he was missing some vital part of himself- a limb or a lung, something was really really wrong with him.

He hadn't felt this way since...well, since he had first started at Lake Forest; a closeted gay kid starting at a prestigious, notoriously right-wing prep school. Back then he had felt wrong in his own skin and constantly sick over the fact that he had left behind everything that was familiar to him back in Pontiac, at least when he had been hiding who he was at home he still had his routines to fall back on.

Ultimately it wasn't until he realized that Lake Forest held Catholic and Jewish services as well as its more widely attended basic Christian services that he started feeling like he could breathe again. Granted, it didn't feel great to be told that everything he loved meant that he was headed straight to hell, but he had persevered and just tailored his religion to suit himself and the familiarity of Mass with its prayers and hymns had helped settle him until he had found ROTC halfway through his freshman year.

Weighing his options, Castiel gnawed on his lip in thought as he hefted his backpack onto his shoulder and started to trudge his way out of the school building. He was supposed to call Gabriel to come and get him one he was done with his meeting, but he wasn't really ready to go home yet; he wanted to at least try to see if Rachel's advice might help him feel like he wasn't on the verge of losing everything.

He tugged out his cell phone again as he shouldered his way through the exit doors nearest Virgil's classroom and sent his brother a text saying he was going to walk home since the day was unseasonably warm for early February. It wasn't going to the park and his normal route home wouldn't take him past the salvage yard on the edge of town or the diner that was in the opposite direction, same as Dean's apartment, so he considered it a fair compromise.

Cas had already taken off his uniform jacket and made it half a mile when his brother finally texted him back saying 'WTFE don't miss dinner'. Psh, nice to know that Gabriel's concern for him wasn't hindered by shaggy haired boys with hazel eyes.

The short five miles between his school and the house was just far enough for Castiel to realize that he was wandering with a purpose other than just getting home, cutting across side streets and zigging when he should have just zagged his way back onto the straightest, quickest path home. But honestly, it wasn't until he was actually standing on the sidewalk in front of St. John's that he felt the tightness in his chest release just a little bit.

The parking lot was mostly empty, just a few straggling penitents making their way towards the soft strains of piano music that was floating out of the doors that were propped open invitingly for the early evening Friday Mass. Cas had been back a couple of other times since his disastrous Thanksgiving confessional, for the early morning Mass that he could catch before school, and it hadn't been bad; so far the priests and deacons hadn't blustered on about fire and brimstone so he was cautiously hopeful.

Slipping into the back row of pews and silencing his phone, Castiel tried very hard to smile politely at the hulking man with the knuckle tattoos sitting at the other end of his row before snatching up one of the programs out of the wooden trough that also held hymnals in front of him. It looked like the evening services was a bit shorter, with the liturgy being spoken as opposed to being sung like it was in the mornings; Cas supposed it was because a packed service tended to sound better than the twenty or so church members scattered around the large, echoing chapel.

When one of the deacons that Cas recognized stepped up the front podium and cleared his throat, the younger boy set aside his program and quickly patted down his pockets so that he could silence his cell phone. After the deacon greeted the assembled group he made a vague hand gesture for all of them to stand for the Penitential Rite and Castiel did, glancing nervously down the aisle towards where his pew-mate sat with his bulky arms crossed over his equally expansive chest looking like he had no intention of standing anytime soon. It was kind of noticeable since the the congregation was so small, but not everyone bought into the kneeling and standing and sitting and kneeling thing that Cas kinda sorta liked himself so he tried to pay attention to the familiar recitation of the Rite.

"Have mercy on us, Lord," the deacon intoned.

"For we have sinned against you," Castiel repeated along with the rest of the group, his hands finding the back of the pew in front of him and gripping onto it tight because yea, this is what he had needed. Something familiar, something to ground him.

"Show us your mercy, Oh Lord," the older man replied at the front of the room.

"And grant us your salvation," the younger boy murmured fervently.

The group stayed on their feet for the Kyrie and the Gloria in excelsis and even though Castiel usually found the most comfort singing the hymns he was grateful when the deacon motioned for them to sit (or in a few cases, including Cas' kneel) for the opening prayer; sinking to his knees so fast that they clunked painfully against the hardwood causing Cas to wince and glance over to find the large man at the end of his pew watching him with a blank expression.

He tried to shake off the crawling feeling that the other man was giving him and muttered his own prayers for Dean's safety ('Oh yea, Bobby too.') under his breath, adding in his plea for God to return the other boy to him as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't feel guilty for being selfish right at the end before he raised himself back into his seat on the pew. The deacon gave a short sermon about love which Cas guessed was pretty appropriate considering it had just been Valentine's Day, but man, there had to be other verses besides the whole 'love is patient, love is kind, blahblahblah' spiel that he could have used to get his point across.

All in all the whole service lasted about half as long as the morning one and when Castiel got to his feet after a final prayer to rub at his sore knees, he checked his phone to find that his brother had even bother to question why he wasn't home yet when he really should have been. Maybe Gabriel didn't think there was anything to be worried about since John was so obviously not in Lawrence right now, it didn't mean that it didn't feel bad that no one in his house seemed to care that he wasn't home yet.

He considered stayed for confessional since apparently he had time to just throw away, but then the saw the priest whom he had confessed with at Thanksgiving and decided that if he wanted lackluster spiritual advice he could just ask Ash or Krissy.

Cas was gathering his uniform jacket and light coat he had worn to school off of the floor where he had dumped them next to his backpack when he noticed the man who had been sitting at the end of his pew jump suddenly to his feet and go storming towards the confessional booths where a small line of penitents were forming. He watched at the man roughly grabbed a woman by her elbow and tugged her out of the line hard enough that her loose, messy bun of brown hair wobbled when she stumbled.

A couple of people gave the man scandalized looks as he started steering the woman towards the back of the church and its exit, passing by Castiel as he fumbled with his stuff so that he could catch the pair to see if the woman was okay. She wasn't protesting to being practically frog-marched out of the church, but Cas could imagine that he probably wasn't exactly okay with the whole situation.

"Hey," he called clutching his program in his hand as he quickly walked after the pair who had started to bicker quietly with each other as they got closer and closer towards the exit. "Hey! Miss, Sir, uh...you uh…"

"What kid?!" the man asked brusquely, letting go of the woman as Cas approached and turning to face the younger boy fully; showing off a jagged scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down to his cheek and a stippled looking shamrock tattooed on the side of his thick neck. "Whaddya want?"

"You um...you…" Castiel stalled, glancing at the woman for a second to see if she was okay before doing a double take as he realized that she was the woman that he had met in this same church on Thanksgiving; the one who had given him actually helpful advice. "You! It's you, do you remember me? We met once-"

"Yea, she meets a lot of people, kid," the large man interrupted just as the confused look that the woman had been wearing cleared and she started to now. "And she's got more people to meet, if ya know what I'm sayin'."

"God, just fuck off already, Brick," the woman said with a huff, pushing ineffectively at her companion's bicep. "You haven't let me go to the bathroom by myself for a week, just give me two minutes."

The other man glared at the woman for a moment before rolling his eyes and grumbling something about 'psycho bitches' under his breath, holding up two fingers in the woman's face before heading out the church's exit with a bang of closing doors. Cas watched as the woman visibly relaxed once they were alone, her shoulders slumping tiredly even as she brought up a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose.

"I...uh," Castiel started, feeling awkward about whatever it was he had just witnessed. "I didn't mean to make your boyfriend mad or anything-"

"Not my boyfriend," the woman interrupted after a disgusted sounding scoff, dropping his hand back down to tug at the oversized t-shirt she was wearing as a dress with a pair of brightly colored leggings. "And I don't give a fuck if he's mad, assholes been making my life miserable."

"Do I-I mean...can I help or anything?" Cas asked, realizing that it was a bit ridiculous that he was offering to help someone when he hadn't even been able to help himself or Dean or anyone really.

"No, its fine. I've got it under control," the woman said with a sigh, flipping her hand over her shoulder dismissively before she got a mischievous glint in her eye and propped her hand on her hip. "And what about you, Blue Eyes? I mean, you don't call. You don't write."

Cas let out a laugh, startling himself with how genuine it felt. "I uh...I go to morning Mass usually. Today...this...I just kinda felt like I needed to do something for myself."

"And your grand idea was going to church?" the woman asked with a shrewdly arched eyebrow. "Guess you didn't work things out with your guy, huh?"

"No uh...we did," Castiel said guiltily, reaching up to rub at the spot where the knot on the back of his head had finally gone down. "It's just...it's been a rough week."

"Don't I know it," she replied earnestly, almost too much so. Castiel had the feeling that his week might look like a walk in the park compared to whatever the woman in front of him had been through, especially if she had been spending a lot of time with that Brick-guy. "Well, I hope it gets better, kid. I've got-"

"Cas," the younger man blurted suddenly, causing the other woman's face to take on a weird pained sort of expression before it softened into one that Meg or Jo would give him right before they explained something really obvious to him. "It's uh, my name. Castiel, but everyone calls me Cas."

"Cas, honey," the woman began again, giving him a sweet smile as she reached out a hand to squeeze his forearm. "It was really good to see you again. But as as my charming watchdog has just reminded me, I've got to get to work. I'm running late, actually. So maybe I'll see you around again, a church pot-luck or something?"

"Oh, yea," Castiel said despondently, wishing he could sit down and talk to the other woman; he got the strange feeling that she was an old-soul, wise in a way that he hoped maybe he could be someday for someone. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay and uh...thank you for your advice and stuff. It uh...it helped at the time."

"I'm glad," she replied sincerely, squeezing his arm again before she leaned in and gave him a quick hug. "And you take care of that guy of yours. 'Kay?"

Castiel nodded, his throat tight and his eyes prickling for some reason that he couldn't explain, but he managed to get out one last thing.

"Hey, uh...since we're sorta friends now," Cas called, catching the other woman just as she started to slip quietly out of the doors. "Can you tell me your name? Please?"

The older woman smiled that same sad smile that she had worn back on Thanksgiving, her eyes looking shiny in the light of the antique chandelier that hung in the church's foyer.

"Just call me Lexi, kid," she said, lifting her hand in a wave. "Everyone else does."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYEEYEYEYEYEY! i'm alive.
> 
> I know its been forever and a day, but I've also got more troubling news kids. I've decided that I'm going to work on solely Nomad by Fate (hey I just read that!) and Deep in the Heart until they are complete. Meaning California Dreamin' and It's Kind of a Funny Story are going on hiatus. However, hopefully this will help me from stagnating into a deep pit of writer's block and despair (like I just did) so we shall see.
> 
> In the mean time I'm running a giveaway over on my tumblr {itsprounounceddeathsteel} ! You should check it out or come and yell at me for putting your faves on a break...either way.


	8. Call Me

Years ago, when she had been on the outside looking in, she had thought the whole idea of being an ‘exotic dancer’ was glamorous; you’re basically using makeup and alcohol and tricks of light to sucker gross townies out of their money. It would make her feel beautiful and sexy, and confident in all the ways that getting off the Greyhound at Lawrence’s one and only bus station decidedly hadn’t. Plus it seemed like easy money and if she worked late then hey, that just meant she got to sleep in every day afterwards.

 

The reality turned out to be pretty different from what she had seen on _Secret Diary of a Call Girl._

 

Here backstage, on the inside of the dressing room surrounded by girls and a few boys who were using their contouring and shading skills to hide bruises from clients who got too rough or significant others who got too jealous and the wrinkles from their boss who didn’t care that they had three kids to support when she ripped up their employment contracts in their faces, Lexi could almost laugh at the naivety of her 18-year old self.

 

The alcohol was the rubbing kind, used to get the adhesive from the duct tape used to hold pleather skirts and breasts alike up against the force of gravity off of sensitive skin. And back here the lighting was harsh and bright  to give the security cameras clear views to the employee lockers so that Eve could make sure her customers weren’t getting rolled in any way unless it was in the hay.

 

Out on the main floor, the presentation was at least good enough to draw in the mismatched crowd of rambunctious bachelor parties just looking for a few lap dances and loyal regulars with tastes that ran from particular to downright kinky. It _looked_ like any run of the mill strip club you might have seen in the movies and unless you were in the know, that’s really all it was.

 

Dim, seductive lighting that was smokey from actual cigars and cigarettes that waitresses in low-cut sequined dresses sold out of trays that hung from around their necks made it easy for the performers like Lexi to pass as younger or older or less strung out as the case may be. And the loud music helped keep the conversation and tedious routine of flirt-drink-caress-proposition down to its minimum so that all the ‘talent’ had to do was smile and nod any interested parties in the direction of Eve who routinely set herself up in the secluded corner booth next to the hallway that led to the private rooms.

 

The rooms themselves weren’t terrible. The Ikea-grade furnishings were functional and easy to clean, exactly like they had been designed to be and the bland, animosity of it all made the blur of night after night even harder to separate. But really, when you calculated exactly how much money Eve made every time a customer asked for a jaunt with one of her “children” (which, what the ever-loving hell was wrong with that woman? Every single one of her employees agreed that the whole mommy-dearest complex their boss had was creepy as shit.), decorating was really the least that Eve could do to try to improve the facilities.

 

Each girl and boy had a room all their own for the nights they worked and the mousy Mexican women who Eve paid under the table to come in to clean between customers made sure that no one was having to fu--er...perform on filthy sheets. The deceptively small bedside table was stocked with every kind of lube imaginable and even a few of the more run of the mill sex toys (padded handcuffs, dildos, at least one vibrator, and depending on the night usually a paddle or two). Lexi was mildly impressed that she had yet to see any of the three psuedo-maids mutter so much as a Hail Mary in the direction of some of the things they had seen and subsequently cleaned up.

 

Drugs, however, were a less common thing in those rooms, but Lexi would be lying if she tried to claim that she hadn’t done line of coke or popped a pill in those early days before she realized how hard Eve would come down on someone for showing up to work strung out. Plus getting loaded with a customer, especially one you’d never been with before was always a risk; Lexi had learned that when she had finally asked Ambyr about the scars on her neck. Staving off the general boredom that came from faking four or five orgasms a night by taking some E was certainly not worth the risk of being out of control.

 

And being in control was something that Lexi desperately needed in her life again. But on the nights that Benny came to see her….well, her control on those nights was as hard to hold onto as a slippery eel, no pun intended.

 

Luckily it happened sporadically enough that the man had only earned the title of being her ‘regular’ because he refused to see anyone else when she wasn’t there; he just came and went after asking around for her, not even lingering for a drink at the bar. And wasn’t it just stupid that the whole routine made her heart quicken just a little?

 

However that might have had something to do with the fact that out of all the things that had happened between her and Benny none of it had ever been mundane enough to be called ‘routine’.

 

Not since that first night when he had dubbed her Andrea after Lexi had given her whole ‘it's whatever you want it to be’ spiel that she had picked up from Ambyr (Chavon to her customers) and Abbie (who preferred Josie) as a way to keep her real self separate from what her Eden-self had to do to every night. He’d said it was because she _looked like_ an Andrea, whatever that meant, but the moniker was even further from her real name than Lexi was so she had thought it might make it even easier to repress whatever this new john was about to ask her to do.

 

But Benny had thrown her all out of whack that night when he had stopped her as she went in for a coy kiss that was just as well-rehearsed as everything else about “Lexi” was and just asked her to sit on the bed with him, hand held gently in his much larger one as his calloused thumb brushed across her pulse point over and over. That night, Benny had just rumbled on in his slow Southern drawl about what had brought him to Lawrence.

 

It had been Katrina, the hurricane not some woman, and the story had been roundabout and rambling enough for it to have taken the ex-New Orleans native almost four years for him to end up working in his cousin Lenore’s bar here in Kansas. Benny had done a lot of living in those years and Lexi had found it hard at first to not envy the other man’s freedom, but now after having gotten to know him better, Lexi knew that for Benny freedom meant something entirely different.

 

For her freedom still kinda meant the same thing now that it had three years ago when she had turned 18 and promptly packed a bag so she could leave the prison that her childhood home had become ever since her uncle had moved in after her father had lost his job. It meant getting away, getting anywhere that wasn’t a place where she couldn’t sleep for fear of something bad happening to her again. Only then of course she had run right into the arms of someone far worse than who she had been trying to get away from.

 

Benny’s concept of freedom was a lot more traditional; the simple picturesque image of a house with a white-picket fence and a yard that was so big it had to be mowed once a week could’ve been ripped out a Norman Rockwell painting. It was shocking to Lexi because of how genetically whitebread it was, when she had just been expecting something _more_ after hearing about all of Benny’s other adventures.

 

Don’t get her wrong, it wasn’t disappointing; not in the slightest. Just...unexpected. Sort of like everything else she had learned about Benny so far.

 

Benny who had a drawl as slow as molasses and a smile like light glancing off a river as the sun comes up.  Benny who claimed to know his Mama’s secret recipe for jambalaya and his granddaddy’s even more secret recipe for moonshine. Benny who’d brought her a poinsettia at the beginning of December ‘just because’. Benny who’d never taken off more than his boots and his coat when he was with her and had asked her permission before he finally went in for a kiss the last time he had visited her even though he had paid for so much more.

 

Benny who was just another john and a weird one at that.

 

None of the others came to her just to talk or cuddle and  call her beautiful, not unless they wanted something from her anyway. So when Eve’s favorite thug-of-the-week, Stefan, came to find her in the dressing room after her last dance, saying that Lexi’s favorite regular was there to her...well, Lexi had to stomp down the excitement that welled up in her chest before it somehow got back to Eve that Benny was maybe, sorta more important to her than every other run of the mill smirk n’ jerk that paid to get off with her.

 

Throwing on a mostly pointless black and white kimono jacket over the silvery purple hot pants and dark green vaguely shell-shaped demi cup bra that she was wearing allowed Lexi at least a little bit of anonymity from the evening’s customers who were now watching Abbie twirl around a pole as she discarded bits and pieces of the ‘naughty secretary’ outfit that she was wearing tonight. The bachelor party sitting close to the stage  and hooting encouragement at her seemed to be enjoying her coworker’s dance much more than they had liked Lexi’s awkward shuffle out of the mermaid getup that Eve had thrust at her. Sometimes it felt like her boss just lived to torture her in any way that she possibly could.

 

Benny reaction though, the way he barked out a short chuckle when she opened the door to her usual room before quickly covering his mouth with his hand and shaking his head apologetically at her, that kinda made the way the skin-tight scale patterned skirt had cut off the circulation to her feet before she had struggled her way out of it, worth it just a little bit.

 

“Go ahead,” Lexi encouraged, doing a slow turn before gesturing at the ridiculous get up that she was wearing today. “I’m sure you caught at least some of my dance so laugh it up, get it out of your system.”

 

The man started to shake his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line before a snort came forcing its way out of his nose followed quickly by a burst of giggles any other person would think was entirely at odds with the large, muscled man wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes on a bed in the one and only brothel in Lawrence, Kansas. But Lexi had seen the many and varied facets of Benny and his laughter over her outfit didn’t carry the same mocking sting that it would have had if it had been coming from anyone else. No, this teasing coming from the man who had rubbed her aching feet during their last encounter when he had showed up later into her shift than usual felt sort of...comfortable.

 

It felt kind of sort of what a real friendship might feel like or maybe something...nope, that line of thinking was too dangerous. Even if Lexi liked the way Benny’s stubble had felt when he had kissed her soft and shy before they had last parted ways, she wasn’t about to **_do_** anything about it.

 

Nu-uh, not gonna happen; not unless it involved her getting her way out of Eden at any rate and she’s gotten to the point where she was ready to scrap that whole stupid plan anyway. Especially after everything with that kid and his psycho dad, it just didn’t seem fair to drag another person into this with her. It’d be better just to finish out her contract with Eve and then try to make a life after that, what was seven more years in the whole scheme of things anyway?

 

“Andrea, darlin’,” Benny’s voice drawled, pulling her out of her guilt-ridden thoughts that she had started to drown in again. She focused back in to find that her regular had abandoned the bed and approached her to take her hand, the laughter on his face having morphed into a mask of concern. “I was only foolin’. You looked real nice dancin’ up there, like the Little Mermaid come right to life.”

 

“Oh god,” Lexi choked out, shaking her head as she had a vivid flashback of her mother reading her the original tale that her favorite Disney film had been based on and warning her of the limbo she would be trapped in if she let love blind her to the faults of others. “That’s so much worse, I’m going to burn this friggin’ costume later. Eve can just take it out of my check for all I care.”

 

“Well that’s a strange way to take a compliment,” Benny replied with a beamused smirk, a look that Lexi was heart wrenchingly used to seeing on the other man’s face. It was like he thought everything she did was adorable; in fact she knew that what that look was, Benny had told her so. “But whatever makes you happy, sweetheart. I still don’t understand why you don’t just put on normal clothes when you know it’s me come to see you.”

 

“I’ve told you a million times; I’m at work and this is my uniform, Benny,” Lexi said snapping the strap of her bra in an agitated way  that inadvertently drew Benny’s eyes to her breasts and god damnit there was the blush. That awkward, self-conscious blush that the regular did when he accidentally ogled her, the blush that was usually accompanied by…

 

“I-I-I’m sorry,” Benny stuttered, ducking his head and gesturing towards the bed where his black pea coat and his hat had already been tossed off. “S-s-sit. I bet y-y-your dogs are barkin’.”

 

Yea, Lexi was pretty sure that stutter was probably going to be what eventually made her have to stop seeing Benny. It was just too endearing.

 

“Yea,” Lexi acquiesced softly, kicking off the strappy platforms she was wearing and making her way towards the headboard of the bed where she snagged a pillow for her lap before settling against it. “I’ll never get used to those shoes.”

 

“I could rub your feet if you want,” Benny offered, taking a seat on the bed next to her legs where he hesitated with a hand over her calf before just setting it on the bedspread between them instead. “Or we could just sit n’ talk, you can take it easy for a coupla hours.”

 

“A couple of _hours_?” Lexi asked, sitting forward to put her hand out onto Benny’s forearm. She didn’t even mean to do it and after mentally chastising the appendage for a moment, the woman soldiered on. “Christ, Benny how much money did you drop tonight just so you could rub my feet?”

 

The man shrugged before looking up at her from underneath his eyelashes, his expression taking on that slightly guilty look that Lexi had only seen once before when Benny had initially turned down her advances the the first time that he had come to see her. It has been surprising in more ways than one since guys usually just pushed her against the wall or onto the bed as soon as she made it in the door, but Benny had been sincerely remorseful when she started to sashay towards him; worried that he had hurt her feelings by turning her down for meaningless sex.

 

“I jus’ wanted to spend more time with you is all,” Benny admitted, scooting down the bed as he spoke so that he could take up the dainty, aching foot nearest to him and begin to soothe the angry red marks from Lexi’s heavy shoes away. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to come see you again.”

 

“Oh,” Lexi said, her shoulders slumping unconsciously as she thought of all the things that could mean for Benny’s life outside Eden’s four, smokey walls. “Why’s that? Did you uh...did you meet someone?”

 

“Meet someone?” Benny asked, his confusion evident on his face as he spoke. “Hell, no. You know I ain’t got time for stuff like that, plus I’m no good with women…”

 

“So what am I, a duck?” Lexi teased, setting the pillow in her lap aside as she spoke. It allowed her to lean back against the headboard again, putting her body on display as her kimono fell open to reveal her bra and short shorts again.

 

It was a low blow that she would use with other johns, a tease that usually made her mouth taste like bile and ash, but seeing Benny’s eyes flicker over her form before he blushed all the way up to his ears again made her stomach roil in a weirdly pleasant way.

 

“Y-y-you’re dif’rent,” the man replied brokenly, his eyes closing for a second as he took a deep breath to calm himself before he began to speak again. “You don’t laugh at me when I start sputtering and you don’t think it's queer that I’m a bit ol’ fashioned.”

 

“Sugar, if you any more old fashioned then you’d be muddled with bitters and have a lemon twist,” Lexi joked, nudging at Benny’s hands that had stilled on her foot so that he would return to his previous ministrations. “But seriously, if all my clients treated me as good as you do then I’d feel more like a courtesan than a moderately priced hooker.”

 

And somehow that innocuous little comment made Benny blush even harder, though this time his mouth stayed shut as he continued to ease the soreness out of her stiff bones.

 

Lexi could still feel the dull _thumpthumpthump_ of the main room’s music in her bones and every now and then a voice, either slurred or sultry depending on who it belonged to, would wander past the sole door in the private room but despite that she still managed to let herself be lulled into a comfortable near-doze.

 

Maybe it was exhaustion because she hadn’t really been able to sleep with Brick or Thad or any other one of Eve’s interchangeable assholes camped out on her couch making sure she wouldn’t freak out and run to the cops about last week’s house-call debacle (again Eve’s turn of phrase was nauseating even when her boss was at least feigning sympathy). Quite possibly it was just the sense of safety and peace she found in the simple, uncomplicated skin to skin contact that Benny offered her; contact that she hadn’t known she was missing until the soft-spoken Southerner had walked nervously into her private room at Eden with his hat twisted in his large, gentle hands.

 

Either option could be the reason for why she didn’t quite catch what Benny mumbled into her hair after he had finished rubbing her feet and moved up to recline beside her on the bed; opening his arms out of habit so she could tuck herself against his chest like she had practically every time Benny had come to see her.

 

“Hmm?” Lexi hummed, keeping her eyes closed as she fumbled for Benny’s right hand with her left so that she could squeeze it and let him know that she was listening.

 

Okay, maybe she was only halfway listening because even after Benny repeated himself a second time Lexi just had to sit up and ask, “Come again?”

 

“I-i-i said we should c-c-court,” Benny sputtered, his wide blue eyes blinking owlishly up from where he was reclined back against the mountain of small, useless decorative pillows that Eve had seemed to favor when she decorated all the private rooms. “I wh-want to c-c-c--”

 

“Court me?” Lexi asked incredulously as a sudden jolt of electricity shot down her spine, making her nerve ending feel overwrought and hyper-sensitive. Even the bit of skin on her knee that was still pressed up against Benny’s grey slacks felt like it had ants crawling all it, only they weren’t biting yet. The biting came later, it always came later. “What? Like...you want to date me?”

 

The other man’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he gave a helpless sort of nod that had Lexi jumping off the bed and clutching the sides of her kimono tight around her body. She suddenly felt way too underdressed to be having this conversation, in fact; everything about this whole scenario was just backwards and wrong and--

 

“No,” Lexi said shutting her eyes and shaking her head so she could just stop that train of thought. It was pointless to dwell on the fact that her life wasn’t her own anymore because there really wasn’t anything she could do about it right fucking now.

 

“Al-al-al--,” Benny tried to start and when Lexi opened her eyes to look at him again she saw that he had moved to sit on the edge of the bed again, his hands almost but not quite reaching out to touch her.

 

“Al-a-al-shit, okay!” He finally spat. “I-i didn’t mean t’ upset ya. I-i-i can leave. You can just have the room to yerself n’ I won’t bother you again, Andrea.”

 

“Ugh don’t go,” Lexi replied, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant, I just...Jesus, Benny, you don’t even know my name and you want to take me out to dinner and a movie? I’m a fucking whore, okay? You could do so much better.”

 

At some point during her speech she had started to pace, but she wasn’t exactly sure when and at another, probably different, point Benny had stood up to start gathering his coat and his boots that had been haphazardly removed earlier only to stop upon hearing Lexi’s words.

 

“Don’t say that,” Benny said without a trace of a stutter, dropping his coat on the foot of the bed when Lexi just scoffed and continued to pace around the room before he took a few hesitant steps in her direction. “Listen to me, Andr--”

 

The silence was awkward enough that it was physically palpable and Lexi had to grit her teeth to keep from blurting out her name --her real name --for Benny just so that the other man would have one genuine piece of her, just fucking one. It felt sort of like a fair tradeoff for all the money he had paid all those times just to see her.

 

“You’re more than a wh--” Benny started again, his voice faltering on the less than pleasant word for Lexi’s profession only to strengthen again when he stopped firmly in front of her. “You’re _not_ a whore. You were never _that_ to me, alright?”

 

“That’s sweet and all,” Lexi said, trying to sound flippant and dismissive because she needed to end this whatever with Benny before they---before _he_ got his heart broken. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t know anything about me. I could be a murderer and this is just my hobby on the side.”

 

The corner of Benny’s mouth quirked up at that, but he sobered again quickly once he realized that woman in front of him was being completely serious.

 

He nodded and took another slow step towards where Lexi had paused in the corner of the room before putting his hands out towards her in a placating gesture.

 

“Alright, I’ll admit it. You could be the next Lizzie Borden,” Benny began, only for his mouth to quirk again when Lexi just scoffed and shook her head at him.  “But I highly doubt it. Now, I may not know much abou’ you but everything I do know I like.”

 

“That’s because it’s all an act,” Lexi said, feeling a little hysterical because everything that she had said and did since meeting Benny really really had not been part of the usual rigmarole that she put on for her other clients. “You paid Eve for a service and I provide that service.”

 

“You’re right, about the paying part,” Benny agreed as he finally edged close enough touch the other woman, he didn’t, but the fact that he left the decision to initiate contact up to Lexi kind of meant everything. “We didn’t exactly meet usin’ normal means. But if you were just actin’ then I wouldn’t know that your favorite flowers are tulips or that your sister couldn’t stand the smell of cinnamon when she was pregnant with your niece or that you’ve always wanted a dog named Stanley, but your pop wouldn’t let you have one.”

 

“Lots of people like tulips,” Lexi mumbled, hugging her arms tighter around herself as she fought the urge to smile and cry. Yea, both at the same time. Because sometimes she had rambled when she and Benny were cuddling, but she hadn’t thought the man was actually listening and she could not fucking handle this right now. “And even more people like dogs. I don’t understand what your angle is here, Benny. If you wanted you could already be fucking me however you want, why do you want to try to pretend like there is something else here that there isn’t?”

 

“Because there is something else here,” Benny said his voice taking on a frustrated edge as he hand a hand through his close cropped hair. “I can--- I can feel it right here,” the man continued slapping a hand over his heart. “And I think that you can feel it too. I just...I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, honey.”

 

“Well, you’re not supposed to meet women in fucking strip clubs!” Lexi shouted, reaching out a hand to push hard at Benny’s shoulder even though the gesture barely rocked the larger man’s body. “And you’re not supposed to be a perfect fucking gentleman when you’re paying to get your rocks off! And you’re not supposed to be so...damn...just damnit, Benny!”

 

“I-I’m sorry?” Benny replied questioningly as the smaller woman continued to bat ineffectually at his chest with her clenched fists. If he was being honest it hurt more than a little bit, but not as much as seeing the tears that were threatening to spill down his companion’s face caused him.

 

So he gathered her in his arms, this woman that he didn’t really know, but couldn’t stop thinking about regardless and let her curse at him and hit him until she ran out of steam and was just muttering and sniffling against his chest. Words had never been his thing, for a myriad of reasons, so Benny just kept quiet; letting the curses become less harsh and the rationalizations about why this, _them_ , was a bad idea fall silent after several long minutes.

 

“You don’t even know my name,” came the whisper of the other woman, sounding small and defeated and broken in a way that made Benny just want to gather up the pieces of this girl he barely knew and glue them back together even if it meant he cut himself to bits doing it.

 

“Then why don’t you tell me?” Benny asked, the question seeming entirely rational given the direction of their conversation, but the woman in his arms just scoffed against his chest and buried her face in closer to his shirt that was probably getting smeared with tears and makeup. Not that that he could find it in himself to care. “Or I can try to guess it if you want. Over coffee or supper or...jus’...give this a chance, darlin’. Please.”

 

Lexi sighed heavily, turning her face so that she could press her ear against the place where Benny’s heart was thumping a wild tattoo that matched her own rapidly beating heart. As much as she wanted this, just this simply being held by someone who she believed would never take advantage of her, it just seemed to wildly impossible. Eve would never let her have this, especially with a client. _Especially_ not while her boss was keeping such a watchful eye on her after last week’s house-call debacle.

 

“Don’t say no right now,” Benny blurted when Lexi drew in the breath that she would need to turn him down. “Jus’ wait til I get back. Lenore n’ I need to go take care of some family business down south. I’ll just be gone for a coupla weeks, but as soon as I get home I’ll come see ya and you can let me down nice and gentle like.”

 

Lexi shut her eyes against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her and fought against the urge to fist her hands in the fabric of Benny’s shirt so that she wouldn’t feel like a clingy, weepy nutcase.

 

“You shouldn’t come back here.”

 

The words slipped out of Lexi’s mouth along with a rush of breath, surprising the both of them if the way that Benny suddenly tensed was any indication. The woman’s eyes flew open once she had registered what she said and her head whipped up to see Benny clenching his jaw and staring at her with a resigned sort of look on his face.

 

“I understand,” Benny replied with a nod, his hands beginning their retreat from where they had settled naturally on Lexi’s waist as he had held her. He cleared his throat abruptly and took a step back, moving in the direction of his coat that he had abandoned earlier. “I’ll be goin’ th--”

 

“No,” Lexi said quickly, reaching out to snatch the other man’s coat up before he could get a chance to pick it up and clutching it to her chest. “I didn’t mean that you should leave.”

 

“Then explain it to me, sugar,” Benny sighed, his hand flopping down to his side when Lexi took another step away from him in an effort to dodge his attempt at retrieving his coat so he could leave. “Because I’ll admit I’m real out of my depth here.”

 

If Lexi’s heart could have melted any more it would have been a puddle on the floor.

 

“I want you to stay,” Lexi started, watching Benny warily as he moved just in case he decided to be all noble and leave without his coat because he thought that’s what she wanted him to do. The other man put up his hands in surrender and just took a seat on the foot of the bed, letting Lexi nod in approval and start to pace before he folded his hands in his lap. “Good. Stay, right there. Don’t move.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Benny replied, fighting the urge to smile as the woman in front of him started to pace with his coat still in her arms. He was probably about to be turned down by the only woman who had ever made him _feel_ something, but he would still be happy for as long as he got to be here with her. However short that time might be.

 

“Okay, you see, it's really complicated,” Lexi began, deciding that it would be easier to wear Benny’s coat than hold it as she paced so she slid it on even though it was too big and the sleeves extended way past her fingertips. It smelled like freshly turned earth and the sandalwood cologne that Benny always wore when he came to see her. “I need you to know that the person that I have to be while I’m here is different than the person I really am. I can’t take this shit home with me Benny, I have to compartmentalize. Y’know?”

 

On the bed, Benny nodded seriously when the woman in front of him stopped and looked sharply in his direction before resuming her pacing a moment later; gesticulating wildly as she spoke even though she had to keep pushing the sleeves of his coat up on her elbows lest they flop about comically.

 

“And so this girl that you like, the Andrea you know here, is not really me. Parts of her are me,” Lexi continued, gesturing down her body as if to say that was all of herself that she had revealed to Benny; even though they both knew that was a lie. “Just like parts of me are also Chastity or Roxi or Lola.”

 

“Lola?” Benny asked, stifling his Barry Manilow-induced grin behind his hand when the woman in front of him leveled an unamused glare in his direction.

 

“I wore yellow feathers one time, okay? Once.” Lexi insisted, waiting for Benny’s nod before she continued. “Anyway, my point is that I’m whoever I need to be depending on the night. I play so many characters that I hardly even know who I am anymore. Hell, I don’t even know if all the things I told you were true or just bits and piece of Roxi and Lexi that I haven’t been able to shake off. So do you see why this isn’t a good idea, Benny?”

 

“Not particularly,” Benny said calmly, putting up his hand to stop the woman in front of him when she started to continue with her protestations. “Now wait a minute ‘fore you go getting all worked up again. What  I mean is, I can see why _you_ think us seeing each other isn’t smart, but you’re not exactly convincin’ me of that. Now I’ve seen you up on that stage and I’ve seen you be those other girls for those other fellas, but if you’re telling me that those men care about just listening to your talk even half as much as I do then we’ll call the matter settled and I won’t bring it up again.”

 

Lexi frowned at Benny, mostly because it had made her cringe when he had said that he had seen her interacting with other johns. How could he still want her after seeing her act like that? How could he be okay with the things she did to stay afloat on her own?

 

“Hey now,” Benny said gently, getting to his feet and bundling this nameless woman that he couldn’t help but care about in his arms. “No more cryin’ tonight. I’m sorry, darlin’. That all came out better in my head, I promise.You don’t owe me or any other bastard that walks into this place nothin’. Hell, I’ll keep comin’ to see you just so you can get some peace every now n’ then. I’ll never expect anything from you other than what you want to give me.”

 

Lexi scoffed and it was supposed to mean something along the lines of ‘How are you even real?’, but since both her and Benny seemed to be having trouble with communication tonight, of course that’s not how the other man took it.

 

“I’m serious,” Benny said firmly, tipping Lexi’s head back so that she had to look him straight in the eye; not that she could have missed how earnest his voice was as he spoke his next words. “I don’t care what you do to make your livin’, And--. I will never judge you for your past, everyone does what they have to do to get by. You may even love this job and I’d never ask you to quit, but just give me a chance to get to know more of the real you. Even if that happens here, in these four walls, and not out at a coffee shop or somethin’.”

 

“You uh...gotta pen or something?” Lexi asked, making Benny’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “For my phone number, my cell.”

 

“Inside pocket,” Benny said dazedly, pointing at his coat that the woman was still wearing. “Prob’ly got a receipt or something in there to write on too.”

 

Lexi nodded, rummaging around in the deep pockets on the other man’s coat until she came up with a rumpled gas receipt and a ballpoint pen. Heading over to the nightstand next to the bed, Lexi hastily scrawled her number across the back of the receipt and then turned and held it out to Benny, biting her lip so that she had something else to focus on besides the way her hand was shaking with nerves. There were a lot of things in her life that Lexi could say she wouldn’t mind taking back, but this didn’t feel like one of them.

 

“Y-you s-s-sure ‘bout this?” Benny asked, his voice trembling just as much as Lexi’s hand as he carefully took the number from her.

 

Lexi nodded quickly, pulling Benny’s coat even more tightly around her body like it could protect her from Eve’s wrath when her boss found out about this. As long as she finally had something that was _hers_ , Lexi could hardly even find it in herself to care about the consequences.

 

“You go do your family thing,” Lexi explained, talking herself through this insanity just as much as she was Benny. “Give yourself time to talk yourself out of this and if you haven’t by the time you get back, call me and ask me for my name.”

 

“S-so if I asked you r-righ’ now?” Benny asked hesitantly, folding up Lexi’s number and sticking it in the front pocket of his button down shirt.

 

“Right now I just want to lay here with you til our time is up,” Lexi said as she slid across the bed, making room for Benny in the process. “Can we do that tonight, Benny?”

 

The other man nodded, toeing his shoes off again before he moved towards the bed, “Whatever you want, sugar.”

* * *

 

“Got anymore sugar?” Bobby asked the girl who had been steadily refilling his cups of coffee at the small truck stop that he had stopped at to consult his map.

 

The girl nodded, popping her gum idly as she reached beneath the counter to grab a full sugar shaker to replace the one that the older man had emptied over the course of night and early morning hours. She plopped it down on the corner of Bobby’s map that was acting as more of a placemat than a a guide at this point and continued down the line of tired truckers sharing the counter, asking if they needed anything.

 

The other man sighed, scratching an ‘X’ onto the map over Oakley since he had just finished scouring the small town’s two whole hotel rooms for any sign of Dean or John. Bobby sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over the week’s worth of stubble that he had grown while driving literally all over Kansas looking for his nephew before sparing a glance towards the clock on the wall above the truck stop’s outdated and broken jukebox.

 

Yea, he could probably call now.

 

Fishing a couple of tens out along with his cell phone, Bobby settled up the bill that had not so subtly been slipped onto the counter by his elbow at around 6am by his waitress and made his way out of the diner. Sidling up to his rust speckled Chevelle, Bobby tossed his mostly useless map of Kansas in through the passenger side window before propping his elbows up onto the top of the car and frowning irritably at his phone as he pulled up the number of the one person in Lawrence that he least wanted to talk to.

 

“Lawrence Police Department,” A groggy sounding male voice answered a couple of rings after Bobby had connected the call. “This is Officer Daniels, how can I help you this morning?”

 

“I need t’ speak t’ Sheriff Mills,” Bobby replied, rolling his eyes heavenward when the officer immediately turned down his request with a rote sounding excuse about the sheriff not being in yet. “Listen, kid. I’ve known that woman for goin’ on twenty years now n’ if she ain’t at least an hour early for work then somethin’s wrong. Now tell her Bobby Singer’s on the line n’ don’t take it personal when she starts cussin’ at ya.”

 

The rookie cop stammered something that sounded like a ‘Sir, yes, Sir.’ and Bobby had to allow himself a grin as the hold music for the police station kicked on, a Muzak version of almost the entire _Top Gun_ soundtrack.

 

After a couple of long minutes, where Bobby was sure Jody was either throwing a stapler at the hapless cop who had to tell her she had a call or demanding that the kid get her a cup of coffee, the hold music abruptly cut out and a sharp female voice took its place.

 

“Singer, tell me what you got,” Jody declared, forgoing the formalities that she would use in any other instance because her patience was probably wearing pretty thin.

 

Before leaving Lawrence, Bobby had stopped by the sheriff’s department to fill Jody in on what was going on with the more volatile members of his little patchwork family; glossing over the parts about John’s rampant homophobia (not that Jody wasn’t well-familiar with it herself) and convincing the other woman to treat it as a missing person’s report for a while until Bobby was certain that he couldn’t track John and Dean down himself.  

 

He told her that he didn’t have proof that Dean hadn’t gone with John himself, to “reconnect” or some other type of outdated Dr. Spock-era parenting bullshit, and while she hadn’t seemed entirely satisfied with that reasoning; Dean was eighteen now. And there wasn’t much she could do besides put out a BOLO for John’s truck and hope for the best.

 

“Well, hello to you too,” Bobby replied sarcastically, sighing when the silence stretched between them it that way it always seemed to do when Jody didn’t think he was being very funny. “A’right Jody, I give. You were righ’, I was never gonna find them on my own.”

She had also told him that he was going to end up driving all over the state trying to track them down, but since it was a week later and he had been giving her updates with each progressive county he passed through that part could probably go unsaid.

 

“You’re a moron, Bobby,” Jody’s voice sighed at him through the line and Bobby nodded in agreement even though she couldn’t see him. “I’m going to get my boys over to the Winchester’s, collect any evidence that didn’t get trampled on by your dumb ass, and we’ll get John and Dean’s pictures out to the news stations so people can call into the tipline if they spot them. Can you get me a recent picture of them?”

 

“I’ll get Sam or Cas to bring something down to the station for you,” Bobby offered since he was over halfway across the state from Lawrence and the quicker they started handling this right, the sooner Dean could come home.

 

“Cas?” Jody asked, her voice sounding thoughtful in that off-putting way she only used when she was trying to pull the wool over someone’s eyes. “That’s Dean’s boyfriend, right?”

 

“Been datin’ a coupla months,” Bobby confirmed carefully, not wanting to make the other boy relive all the trauma that John had put him through when he was already worrying himself sick over Dean. “Why’d ya ask?”

 

“No reason,” the woman replied briskly, which did nothing to relieve the sinking feeling that Bobby had in his stomach. “I’ll get Dean’s face and pertinents out there, come by the station when you get back and we’ll go over where you looked so the state troopers don’t have to cover the same ground twice.”

“Will do, Sherrif,” Bobby said resignedly, rattled by the fact that maybe he’d misjudged how unhealthy John’s projection of self-hatred had become to resort to kidnapping his own son. He’d once thought his love for John was unshakeable, but those foundations had been well and truly rocked. “And give that lovely lady of yours my love, will ya?’

 

“I’ll tell Donna you said hi, Bobby,” Jody’s amused voice returned, though it didn’t sound quite as genuine as it usually did.

 

As he coaxed his beat up Chevelle to life for the return trip to Lawerence, Bobby had to concede that Jody Mills probably already knew way more about what had happened with John and Dean and Cas than he himself could ever hope to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been about a million years coming, but now I get to go work on updates for Deep in the Heart and It's Kind of a Funny Story!!! Yay! Also I got a new job that will give me tons more time to write and be super less stressful!!! Yay! Come visit me on tumblr {itspronounceddeathsteel} and we can talk fic and music!


End file.
